Harry Potter and the Magnificent Farce
by Angel Erin Arcturus
Summary: Harry Potter and his group of friends struggle through the school year, try to stop Voldemort's evil plans, and cause trouble for each other. No specified pairings.
1. Chapter 2: Dudley's Birthday

Greetings from Angel Dragoon! Prepare yourself to enter the world of Harry Potter for the first time once again. As a note of caution, this story is packed with drivel and may be rather dry until chapter eight or so. My apologies for the bloody bizarre numbering. Now, with that out of the way, we can read:

Harry Potter and the Unlicensed Parody, by Arcturus Maple and co. but if J.K. wants to claim this work as hers, which she won't (It's sordid), she can. I only ask that it be free for anyone to read (unless I can find a publishing company)

Due to the first chapter being extremely unimportant to this work, we will begin with:

Chapter 2: Dudley's Birthday

Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find a baby on the doorstep, and learned they had a nephew. Private Drive had not changed at all. The sun rose on the same tidy front rock gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys' front door; it crept into their living room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful vision from the Lord. Or Budweiser. One of the two, anyway. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different colored dresses. That was a young and less ugly Aunt Marge- but she was no longer that thin, and now the photographs showed a bony old geezer with bags under his eyes in papal robes and a wide boy holding up a fake gold belt. They weren't in the same frame, but they shared the mantel.

Harry Potter was still there, asleep at the moment, but not for long. His Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her voice that made the first noise of the day.

"U-" she began to yell.

"Up! Get up! Now!" Vernon yelled, cutting her off.

Harry woke with a start. His uncle banged on the sheet metal door with a hammer.

"Up!" he hollered.

Dudley then tottered down the stairs, making them groan ominously and causing asbestos to shower down on Harry with each step. Dudley's birthday – why should he care? Harry got slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. He found a pair under his sleeping bag and, after pulling a spider off one of them, put them on. Harry was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where he was stored.

When he was dressed he went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley's birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new mini-fridge he had wanted, not to mention the third television and the moped. Exactly why Dudley wanted a moped was a mystery to Harry, as Dudley was very fat and hated anything that might make his fat rolls quiver. The one form of exercise Dudley seemed to like was punching people. Dudley's favorite punching bag was Harry, of course. Harry didn't look it, but he was very fast. Red Bull was an amazing thing.

Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Harry had always been small and skinny for his age. He looked even smaller and skinnier than an Asian child model, though this was mostly because all he had to wear were old clothes of Dudley's, and Dudley was about five times bigger than he was. Harry had a thin face, knobbly knees, black hair and bright green eyes. He wore round coke bottle glasses held together with chewing gum because of all the times Dudley had punched him on the shnozz. The only thing Harry liked about his own appearance was a very thin scar on his ear that was shaped like a teardrop. He had had it since Dudley had volunteered to pierce his ear. He had another scar on his forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning which was slightly less cool. He had had that one for longer than he could remember, and the second question he could ever remember asking his Aunt Petunia, after "why he had to drink from a bottle," was how he had gotten it.

"In the airplane crash when your parents snuffed it," Vernon had said, "and don't ask questions!"

_Don't ask questions_ – that was the second rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys, after, of course, to let Dudley have it his way and – you know, it was the third rule. After the number one rule- it was very important to never mention magic around his Aunt and Uncle.

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was turning over the bacon.

"Comb your hair!" he barked, by way of a morning greeting.

About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his bible and shouted that Harry needed a haircut. Harry must have had more haircuts than the rest of the boys in his class put together, but it all made no difference, his hair simply grew that way – very fast.

Harry was poaching the eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like his father. He had a large pink face, a thick neck, small, watery brown eyes, and thick blond hair that curled away from his thick, fat head. Uncle Vernon often said that Dudley looked like the Lone Ranger – Harry often said that Dudley looked like a baboon standing on its head.

Harry put the plates of egg, bacon, ham, herring, and Texas toast on the table, which was difficult, as there wasn't much room. In the end, he just set them on freestanding eating trays. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.

"Eighty-nine," he said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's only five more than last year."

"Son, did you count Auntie Marge's present? It's here under this big one from us."

"All right, sixty-two then," said Dudley, going purple in the face. Harry, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down his bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley flipped the table.

Uncle Vernon obviously scented danger, too, because he said quickly, "And we'll buy you three presents while we're out today. How's that, partner? _Three_ more presents. How does that sound?"

Dudley thought for a minute, then two, then three. It looked like hard work. Finally he said slowly, "So I'll have sixty … sixty …"

"Ninety-three, ma' boy," said Uncle Vernon.

"Oh." Dudley sat down heavily making the chair groan and grabbed the nearest box. "All right then."

Uncle Vernon chuckled.

"Just like his old man! 'Atta boy, Dudley!" He ruffled Dudley's hair.

As Harry pretended to gag, the telephone rang and Uncle Vernon went to answer it while Harry and Petunia watched Dudley unwrap the moped, a cell phone, a universal remote control, forty-five computer games, and a shotgun. He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Uncle Vernon came back from the telephone looking really angry.

To make a long story short, he explained that due to a variety of unlikely circumstances, Harry had to go along with them to the aquarium. Vernon threatened him and told him not to do anything "funny." Needless to say, it was a disaster. The glass in the coral snake exhibit disappeared while Dudley was leaning against it. Not only that, but the glass disappeared in all the exhibits, including the shark, dolphin, and invertebrate tanks. As you might imagine, things became quite hectic. After they climbed into the car, sopping wet, and drove home, Vernon locked Harry in the cupboard for two days. Luckily, the bathroom was right across from the door, and Harry found that, somehow, he was able to hit the toilet from about five feet away through the barred window. Strange and mysterious things like this seemed to follow him closer than a shadow, so he wasn't all that surprised.

Next time on HPMF:

Dudley: Why am I only in one chapter? Daddy, I want to be in the next one, too!

Vernon: Not a chance. We need to get this tail removed!

Harry: But what's going to happen to me?

Hagrid: There's nothing to worry about, seeing as yer a wizard, Harry."

Harry: I'm a what?

Dudley: I want to go home!


	2. Chapter 5:The Chapter With Two Titles

I do not own any of the stuff I mentioned at the beginning of chapter 2.

Chapter 5: There's a Strip Mall Behind the Inn? or Who Taught This Idiot How To Count?

Last time on Harry Potter and the Magnificent Farce: Tons of letters flooded Number 4, Private Drive. Vernon, in a frenzy evacuated the family to a rock in the middle of the ocean. A great, bearded giant by the name of Hagrid had bashed the door down, given Dudley a curly tail and told Harry he was a wizard before carrying the two back to London on a huge motorbike.

Harry woke up early: about midday. Although he could tell it was daylight, he kept his eyes shut tight.

"It was a dream," he told himself sadly. "I dreamed a giant called Hagrid came to tell me I was going to a school for wizards. A flying orangutan tried to kill us. Rowan Atkinson flew by on a broomstick. The military shot at us with AA guns. When I open my eyes I'll be at home in my cupboard."

There was suddenly a loud tapping noise.

_And there's Aunt Petunia knocking on the door_, Harry thought, his heart sinking still further. But he still didn't open his eyes. It had been such a good dream.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"All right," Harry mumbled, "I'm getting up."

He sat up and the duvet slid down his chest. He was in a room with whitewashed walls, a dresser and a chair. Someone was tapping on the door. He walked over and opened it, too stunned to speak.

Outside was a smiling, toothless man. "Hello, I'm Tom. I'm the innkeeper here at the Leaky Cauldron, and it's a pleasure to see you in person, Mr. Potter."

Harry couldn't think of anything to say except for, "Thanks, it's a pleasure to meet you, too."

The innkeeper beamed, then apologized for keeping him, told him that Hagrid was down in the bar, and wished him a great day.

Harry pulled on a clean shirt and a pair of blue jeans someone had thoughtfully left him on the dresser. He couldn't believe they actually fit. When he was ready, he went downstairs looking for Hagrid. The bar was crowded with people of all discriptions. It was difficult to miss Hagrid. He took up one end of the bar all by himself. He was chatting with a pale young man with one twitching eye who was wearing a white turban, a mustache, and an eyepatch. Harry walked over, dodging through the crowded room.

"Good mornin'!" Hagrid called happily, "How'd you sleep?"

"Very well. Hagrid, what happened wasn't a dream, was it?"

"No, I'm pretty sure it wasn't."

"I really am a wizard," he asked excitedly.

"Yes, you're a wizard Harry."

"And the flying orangutan?"

"It would be kind of hard to avoid them in that region, yes."

"And Rowan Atkinson?"

"Yes."

"And the military trying to shoot us down?"

"Err, no. That one was a dream, Harry. Anyway, I'd like you to meet Professor Quirrell. He'll be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell in a thick Indian accent, grasping Harry's hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you."

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" he laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to pick p-pick up a new b-book on vampires and something from Gringotts, myself." He looked terrified at the very thought, taking a swig out of his pint mug.

"Well, we'll see you!" Hagrid waved good-bye. Thank goodness you came down when you did, I don't like him. He's very queer, you know. Well, I suppose he can't be that bad if Dumbledore gave him the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. He trusts him more than Professor Snape, at least."

"What do I need for school?" Harry asked him.

"Let's see, I've got your list right here."

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Uniform

First-year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or leather)

4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings, fur trim)

5. One tie (again, black. No silly looking ties)

Please note that all pupils clothes should carry name tags

Girls will require:

1. Three mini-skirts

2. Three pairs of knee-high socks

Course Books

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

Other Equipment

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials (NO plastic)

1 telescope

1 set brass scales (or a battery-powered scale)

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad OR a rat OR a raven OR a rock (No Thestrels, please!)

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

"Can we buy all this in London?" Harry asked skeptically.

"Sure, we can get all this out back."

"At outback? Great, I'm starving."

"Not a restaurant, behind the inn."

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."

He grinned, gesturing broadly as Harry hid a snort. _Diagon Alley_? What comedian had come up with _that_ name? The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop.

"You'll be needing one of them," Hagrid said, pointing, "but we need to get your money first."

At the end of the street was a tall building covered from top to bottom with ads. Hagrid pointed at it and said reverently, "Gringotts."

Outside the great burnished bronze doors stood a-

"Yup, that's a goblin, all right," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the broad stone steps toward him.

The goblin was about a head shorter than Harry and was wearing, appropriately, he supposed, a suit and tie. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard, and, Harry noticed, very long hands and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them. Harry read about half the lines before they walked through them. They fetched some money from Harry's vault, which held tall stacks of coins in various sizes, shapes, and colors.

"All right, now I'm going to explain the money system," said Hagrid, "There are roughly thirty Knuts in a Sickle, twenty Sickles in a Galleon, and ten Galleons in a Bullion."

The goblin, whose name was Griphook corrected him, "No, there are seventeen Sickles in a Galleon, twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, and there is no such thing as a Bullion."

Hagrid scratched his head, "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure! I work at a bank, don't I?"

"Well, don't ask me, I wouldn't know."

The goblin tried to process this, but gave up. "Where to next?" he asked resignedly.

"Vault three hundred and seven- no. One hundred and- hold on," he dug through his pockets, pulling out random crap, like ticket stubs and moldy dog biscuits. "Here it is," he said, pulling out a slip of paper, "Vault seven hundred and thirteen, please.

Within vault seven hundred and thirty-someth- whatever – was a small dirty package, which Hagrid had tucked into one of his pockets within seconds and they were back in the cart.

Outside, Hagrid told Harry he was feeling ill and wandered off to get a drink while Harry collected his school supplies. Harry went to Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions first. A squat, smiling witch in mauve led him to the back of the shop where a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned on his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," the boy said smugly."Then I'm going to convince them to buy me a racing broom. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley.

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.

"No," said Harry.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," Harry said again, wondering what Quiddyfitch was.

"I do – Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house team, and he should know, he works in law. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," said Harry, getting irritated by the lack of openings for sarcastic comments.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"What's Hufflepuff?" Harry asked.

"Exactly," the boy said, apparently agreeing with him, somehow.

Just then, the witch who had fitted him, _when had she left?, _came back with a three sets of robes for him. The pale boy complained about being there first, but done second as Harry left.

Hagrid was waiting outside with a couple large ice creams and a grin on his face. Harry asked him a number of questions, mainly about Quidditch and the four houses. Satisfied with the answers he got they went out to get the rest of his school supplies. They went to the apothecary, which smelled dreadful, Flourish and Blotts, the bookstore, which smelled much better, and Eeylops Owl Emporium, where he got a beautiful snowy owl from Hagrid for the first meaningful birthday present he could remember getting in his lifetime. The only place left to go was Ollivanders, the wand shop.

Hagrid waited outside with Hedwig, because owls weren't allowed in the shop.

Mr. Ollivander was a thin old man with brightly glowing eyes which stood out, glinting in the darkness of the shop. Harry felt distinctly uncomfortable under the gaze of those pale orbs.

"Welcome to my shop. Please, sit down. I shall be right back," he said, entering a back room. He returned a few moments later with a slim black box.

By the end of the encounter, Ollivander had gone through at least fifty before he found the right one. The quality of service was incredible. Then, he learned that Mr. Ollivander was very good at bargaining, and he found that no matter how hard he tried, the price stayed above ten Galleons. Wand in hand, Harry left the shop. They returned to the Leaky Cauldron just before the sun set.

Over the next month, Harry explored Diagon Alley, meeting a variety of magical children. He wasn't the only one who didn't know what to expect in regards to Hogwarts. He met a girl, Hermione Granger, who seemed excited to be going, though she had only learned of magic a few days before. Neville Longbottom, a rather round faced boy from a wizarding family, was very nervous about just about everything.

Another day, he met a pair of boys whose names were Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, who were both very excited to be going, and determined to be in the same house. Harry took an immediate liking to them and hung out with them for the rest of the day. There also seemed to be a rather chubby, brown-haired girl following them who seemed to disappear when any of them tried to get a good look at her. The three had found themselves entranced by the appearance of a very pretty student named Blaise Zabini, only to be told he was a boy.

On the last day before he was to head to Hogwarts, he met an older boy in Quality Quidditch Supplies named Oliver Wood, who was there to buy a new broom. He was the Quidditch captain for Gryffindor house. He was very enthusiastic and explained all the rules to Harry in detail.

Which I will spare you the pain of reading, because I have a heart and feel concern for others, unlike Wood.

Next time on HPMF:

Seamus: This school year is gonna be so awesome!

Dean: I can't wait to sight in my new magic pistol!

Harry: Look out, he's got a gun!

Dean: Don't worry, I know where the safety is. Maybe.

Hannah: Hello?

Seamus: Back, hippo!

Harry: Run away!


	3. Chapter 6: Who Rides the Train Anymore?

I do not own any of the things in this story.

Chapter 6: Platform Nineteen and Nine-Tenths

Harry arrived at King's Cross station at about 10:30. Thanks to Hagrid's helpful instructions, he made it through the barrier wall without much difficulty. He got on the train and started looking for a seat. It was difficult, because most cars were already taken, luckily, he found one with only one person in it.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" he asked the red-haired boy sitting in the seat.

"No, you can sit there if you like," he answered wearily.

Harry heaved his trunk into the baggage rack and sat down across from him. His face was covered in freckles and he was quite tall. Harry got the distinct impression that he didn't want to be bothered. A few moments later, he found out why. The compartment door slid open and two boys bearing obvious resemblance to the one across from him stepped in. It took a moment, but he realized they looked exactly the same.

"Hullo, Ron!" they said at the exact same time in a cheery voice.

"Can't you two just leave me alone?" Ron sighed.

"Nope!" they chirped in unison.

"Are you identical twins?" Harry asked nervously.

"Yes," one said.

"No," contrasted the other.

"Sort of," they agreed.

Harry looked to Ron for help.

"They're identical _fraternal_ twins," he moaned.

"Which means one is a girl, and the other is a boy," one said.

"I know what you're thinking," the other finished.

"How is that possible?"

"That's one question I'd like to ask, and the other is 'what are your names?'"

"Good question. I'm Fred."

"And I'm George. We don't quite know how it works ourselves."

Harry looked at Ron, "They're both boys, right?"

Ron groaned, "No, and _please _don't ask them to prove it."

"Don't worry, we don't have time now anyway."

"Lee's got a tarantula."

"Some other time, then."

They shut the door and left. For some reason, Ron looked very pale.

"Is something wrong?" Harry asked him nervously.

"No. No, I'm fine."

Just then, the compartment door opened again to admit a round faced boy.

"Sorry, but have you seen a toad? I lost mine."

Ron shook his head, "Nope, the only animal in here is my rat, Scabbers."

"Oh," the boy's face fell.

Harry felt sorry for him, "We'll keep an eye open for him."

He brightened a bit, "Oh, all right then, bye."

The door slid shut.

"_Sorry, I lost my toad. Can you help me check up my arse for it?"_ Ron mimicked.

Harry burst into laughter. As they clutched at their sides, the door opened once again.

A red-haired boy with a pinched face and horn-rimmed spectacles stuck his head in the door, and said in a flat monotone, "Please remain in your seats, so that we don't have any accidents in the corridors. Any fighting between-"

"This is my brother, Percy. He's the most annoying prefect-" interrupted Ron.

"I beg your pardon?" exclaimed Percy incredulously.

"-in the entire school."

"Ron, I need to go from compartment to compartment, giving safety instructions, so-"

"Oh, leave us alone," Ron muttered.

"You know the rules now, so follow them!" Percy snapped, slamming the door shut.

Harry and Ron snickered.

The food cart came by about twenty minutes later.

"Anything off the cart, dears?" the nice lady asked.

Harry, who had slept through breakfast, leapt to his feet, but Ron turned away and tried to hide the patches on his coat. Harry went out into the aisle.

He had never had money for candy with the Dursleys, and now that he had pockets rattling with gold and silver he was ready to buy as many lollypops as he could carry – but the woman didn't have lollypops. What she did have were Bawdy Pot's Every Flavor Nuts, Drooly's Best Booming Gum, Chocolate Toads, Pumpkin Crumpets, Crock Cakes, Eucalyptus Wands, and a number of other strange things Harry had never seen in his life. Harry got some of everything, and paid the woman four knuts. Ron watched the exchange with huge eyes.

" Hungry, are you?" Ron asked.

"Starving. Here, want some?"

The two dug into the pile of snacks. Harry found the chocolate toads and got an idea. Ron went and found Neville further down the train, still looking for his toad. He brought Neville back to the compartment.

As he opened the door he said jovially, "And we found him under the seat."

Ron and Neville were followed by a few other boys who had apparently come to watch the fun.

Harry stood up, with hands clamped shut in front of him, one toward the compartment wall, and the other toward the window.

"Where's Trevor?" Neville asked breathlessly.

"Guess which hand he's in." Harry smirked.

"Uh," Neville stuttered, "The r-right one?"

Harry smiled broadly, "Correct!"

Neville smiled too. Harry opened his hand and the toad jumped out the window.

"Trevor!"

"Relax, it was just a chocolate toad," Harry laughed, "Trevor's right here."

He opened his left hand, revealing another toad. This one he smooshed against the wall. Neville looked like he was going to faint. Harry showed him a chocolate smeared hand.

"Got you again."

"That wasn't funny," Neville cried, "Now do you have Trevor, or not?"

"Nope, sorry, it was all a joke."

Neville left, crying, the other boys laughing very hard.

"That was very mean!" a girl cried from the back of the crowd.

Hermione pushed her way to the front, glaring at Harry and Ron.

"You made him think his toad was dead, you insensitive jerks!"

"Twice," Ron pointed out, "and it _was _hilarious."

"That's no excuse!" she shouted at him.

Harry realized the situation might be getting a little out of control, "Look, we just wanted to play a joke. We didn't mean to hurt Neville's feelings."

Hermione blinked, glared at him again, sniffed, and stormed off.

When she was gone, Ron remarked, "Overdoing it a bit, wasn't she?"

"That was classic!" exclaimed a boy with brown hair and an Irish accent, "Name's Ernie Macmillan."

"Harry Potter."

There were gasps, and all eyes were drawn to his forehead. It made him very uncomfortable.

"I'm Terry Boot," said a boy with shaggy black hair similar to Harry's, and a pair of round glasses which slid down his nose repeatedly.

Harry shook his hand. Terry looked like he was about to faint. Then another girl pushed her way to the front of the pack.

"Susan Bones. I have to agree with Hermione, that you were really mean, but, um – You're really cool," she smiled, then noticed his broken glasses, "Let me see those." Then she said some funny words, which I can't spell, and wove her wand and fixed Harry's glasses.

"Wow, thanks," he said, smiling.

She blushed and scurried off in the direction Hermione had gone. Ernie clapped him on the shoulder and began telling him how cool he was. Eventually, though everyone wandered off except for Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, who joined them in the compartment. Then harry noticed that the Chocolate Toad boxes contained pictures with people moving in them. These held his attention for a few minutes, as Ron explained them.

Harry then read off the info on the back of the Dumbledore card, "Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, leading to the victory of the allies in the second World War, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling."

Harry looked over at his friends and Ron and said, "You know, it's odd how they never put irrelevant information like this about characters into books."

Ron nodded in agreement, "It is pretty strange."

Just then, the compartment door opened again. Harry groaned, "Jeez, can't we just sit here in peace for five minutes?"

Hermione put her nose in the air, "Well! I just thought you'd like to know we'll be arriving in a few minutes."

The door slammed shut behind her. It was getting pretty dark outside. The boys changed into their black robes.

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken up to the school seter— spether- separately."

The train slowed, and then stopped.

Next time on HPMF:

Harry: Have we got any more of those chocolate toads?

Ron: Save some room for dinner Harry!

Hermione: We have to be sorted first, though. I wonder what house I'll be in.

Ron: So long as it's not the same house as mine, I'll be fine.


	4. Chapter 7:The Sorting Spoof

I own neither this book, nor this website, nor Starbucks.

Chapter 7: The Oft-Unmentioned Fifth House

After crossing a large lake in some wooden dinghies, the first year students were led up to the entrance hall by Hagrid, where they were made to wait. Shortly, a tall, stern witch with black hair in a kilt and emerald camisole appeared from a door across the hall.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," the witch said in a thick Scottish accent. "I am Professor McGonagall. The start of term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, heroes are in Gryffindor and villains, Slytherin, and while you are here, your house will be something like a clan. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. The four-"

Ron interjected suddenly, "Five."

"-Five houses are called Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin ,and Dragongout. Each house-"

Hermione interrupted this time, "Didn't you say there were five houses?"

McGonagall smacked her forehead, "Stupid! I forgot Hufflepuff again! And Hufflepuff. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. The proper abbreviation for this, as it appears now is HP. Notice anything significant? No? All right, then. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. No pressure. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was inside-out, and on Ron, who was scratching his butt. Harry nervously tried to flatten his unruly hair.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the room. Harry swallowed. Almost immediately, everyone began to shout and stumble about in a panic.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" he asked Ron.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but it may have been George who said it, come to think of it."

Harry's heart gave a horrible jolt. He hoped that being related to his Aunt didn't make him more prone to heart attacks, as Dudley had already had nine. And besides, he was horrible at tests. Especially in gym. But he didn't know any magic yet – what on Earth would he have to do? He hadn't expected something like this the moment they arrived. He looked around, and could tell everyone else looked terrified, too. No one was at all calm except for Hermione Granger, who was whispering the names of the five houses under her breath. He wondered which house he would be in. Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead him to his doom.

And she did just that.

"The Sorting Ceremony is about to start, everyone line up."

Harry found himself being lead through the double doors into the Great Hall. Harry had never imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables and one short, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laden with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up her, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them like pale lanterns in the flickering candle-light. Dotted here and there among the students, pale, ghostly figures shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard Hermione whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open to the heavens.

Harry quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it in the house.

Maybe they had to try and get a rabbit out of it, Harry thought wildly, that seemed the sort of thing – noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, he gave into peer pressure, and stared at it, too. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth – and the hat began to sing:

"Oh you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat a hippogriff if you can find,

A bigger smarta** hat than me!

You can keep your tri-corns black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can p*** off them all!

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't peep on,

So try me on and I will tell you

Which colors you ought to don!

You might belong in red Gryffindor,

Where the overconfident heroes soar;

Or in Ravenclaw, if chosen right,

For those not strong, but considered bright;

Or perhaps in racist Slytherin,

Home to jerks who only let pureblood wizards in;

And if you're unlucky, Dragongout,

For the weird kids, who we leave out;

Or maybe oft-forgotten Hufflepuff,

Whose rhyme I devised at the last second,

Where go those dumb and not too tough.

So put me on! Be afraid!

And in fan fiction, don't make me rap!

Or you're in for a nasty surprise,

For I'll make your hair smell like crap!"

The whole hall burst out in laughter as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four large tables, ignoring the fifth, spat out a cough drop, and became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Harry. "I'll kill Fred, or George, maybe both. One of them was going on about wrestling a troll."

Harry smiled weakly. Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but he did wish they could have tried it on without everyone watching. The hat seemed to be asking rather a lot; Harry didn't feel brave or quick-witted or any of it at the moment. If only the hat had mentioned a house for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for him.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced, rather pudgy girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, smiled back at Dean, and put on the hat, which fell down right over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause –

"Hufflepuff!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went down to sit at the Hufflepuff table, which was by far the most crowded of the four.

"Bones, Susan!"

"Hufflepuff!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"Ravenclaw!"

The second large table from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Bracegirdle, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Ron's twin siblings catcalling

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. Perhaps it was Harry's imagination, after all he'd heard about Slytherin, but he thought they looked like an unpleasant lot. It didn't help that some older students had goatees.

"Finch-Fletchly, Justin!"

"Hufflepuff!"

"Finnigan, Seamus!"

Seamus punched fists with Harry, and he walked up to the hat and donned it. After sitting there for nearly a minute, the hat shouted, "Gryffindor!"

"Goodbody, Bolger!"

There was a loud honk noise, and then, "Dragongout!" and so it was that a character was never mentioned again.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool and pulled it onto her head, making in come to rest at level with her throat.

"Gryffindor!" shouted the hat as Ron groaned.

"I wanted to be in Gryffindor. My whole family is, and now that little s –" Ron whispered furiously.

"Longbottom, Neville!"

The hat took roughly five minutes to decide Neville's fate.

"Gryffindor!" it shouted, making the entire Gryffindor table groan.

As Neville walked away, the hat called, "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Neville stumbled back, and the hat opened its mouth to let Trevor jump into Neville's hands. Neville walked back to Gryffindor table, embarrassed, but relieved.

"Macmillan, Ernie!"

"Hufflepuff!"

"Malfoy, Draco!"

The moment it had touched his head, the hat shouted, "Slytherin!" After Malfoy had set it down, Harry thought he saw it shudder. Malfoy went to join his friends, looking pleased with himself. There weren't many people left now.

"Parkinson, Pansy!"

"Slytherin!"

"Patil, Padma!"

"Ravenclaw!"

One of the twins whistled.

"Patil, Pavarti!"

"Gryffindor!"

The other twin shouted across the hall, "Girls can enter the boy's dormitories!"

McGonagall glared at them, then continued.

Then there was "Perks, Sally-Anne" …, and then, at last –

"Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall half full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.

"Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes – and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting…. So where shall I put you?"

Harry gripped the edges of of the stool and thought, Not Hufflepuff or Dragongout. I also don't like the idea of Slytherin. And I'm not some nerdy Ravenclaw.

"Not giving me much choice, are you?" said the small voice. "Are you sure you don't want to be Slytherin? – No? Well, if you're sure – better be Gryffindor!"

Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table. He was so relieved to have been chosen and not been put in Hufflepuff, he hardly noticed that he was getting the loudest cheer yet. Percy the Prefect got up and shook his hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" and gave the Slytherin table the finger. Harry sat down opposite a ghost in a ruff. The ghost patted his arm, giving Harry the sudden, horrible feeling he'd just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water.

He could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest him sat Hagrid, who caught his eye and gave him the thumbs up. Harry grinned back. And there, in the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry recognized him from the card he'd gotten with the Chocolate Toad on the train. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Harry spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple bath towel turban.

And now there were only four people left to be sorted. (It says three in the book, but there are really four people after Harry. Check a copy.)

"Thomas, Dean!"

"Gryffindor!"

Dean joined Harry and Seamus at the Gryffindor table, high-fiving them simultaneously.

"Turpin, Lisa!"

"Ravenclaw!"

"Weasley, Ronald!"

Harry crossed his fingers.

"Gryffindor!"

Harry clapped loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed into the chair next to him.

"Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy, accepting a few coins from another student he had evidently made a bet with.

"Zabini, Blaise!"

"Slytherin!"

Fred and George half stood up.

"You're prettier than all the Slytherins put together!"

"What say we get together after dinner?"

Blaise blinked in shock. McGonagall laughed behind the scroll.

"Don't get so excited you two, Blaise is a boy."

Fred and George blushed and sat down abruptly. They weren't the only ones in the hall with red faces, and no one said anything as Professor McGonagall took the stool away through a side door by the High Table. Harry looked down at his empty golden plate. He had only just realized how hungry he was. The pumpkin crumpets seemed ages ago.

Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words." A man with greasy black hair and a hooked nose stood up from the High Table, and ran around it in a hurry. "And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak –"

The man stopped his mouth with a napkin, put an arm around his shoulders, and led him back to his seat. Then he said "Thank you! All announcements will be made after the feast."

Everyone clapped and cheered. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not.

"He's a bit mad?" Harry asked Percy uncertainly.

"Mad? He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! And yes, a bit mad. Potatoes?"

Harry's mouth fell open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, catsup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

The Dursleys had starved him since early childhood, but letting Dudley stuff his face. Harry piled his plate with a bit of everything except the peppermints and began to eat. It was all delicious.

"That does look good," said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Harry cut up his steak.

"Can't you -?"

"I haven't eaten for nearly four hundred –"

"Pass the salad?"

"No, as ghosts can neither taste nor move things," the ghost sniffed, "I don't believe I've introduced myself. I am Sir Nicholas de Mimsy- Porpington Engawalde Et Ubiquitum Ad Eldazar von Sca."

"Sca?"

Ron added enlighteningly, "You're Nearly Breathing Nick! My brothers told me about you! You were that muggle bloke with the Society of Creative Anachronism who drowned in the lake three falls back!"

Nick sniffed again and floated off. After he left, Harry looked over at the Slytherin table where Draco Malfoy was sitting with his friends. He could just barely hear them, as Malfoy was talking quite loudly with a bunch of other students.

"They shouldn't let any stinking m******** into this school. This is a place for wizards. My father said it, and I'm saying it now –"

Harry decided it was best just to ignore him.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, churros, chocolate éclairs, cheese cake, jam donuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, plasma tea, sugar snowflakes, exploding bonbons, rice pudding…

As Harry helped himself to a tortoise tart, the talk turned to their families.

"I'm Half-and-Half," said Seamus, pouring creamer into his crimson-colored tea, "My dad is too. Mom didn't tell him she preferred milk 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."

The others laughed.

"What about you, Neville?" asked Ron.

"Well, my gran brought me up, and she likes hornswoggler milk in her tea," said Neville, "but the family thought I would stick to lemons for ages. Great Uncle Algie kept trying to slip some into my tea and get me to try it. He once even pushed me off Blackpool pier once, and I nearly drowned, all as an excuse to get me to drink tea. Didn't happen until I was eight though. Threatened me by hanging me out of a window by my ankle. Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidently let go. He slipped me some after we got back from the hospital. He was so pleased I drank it, he even bought me my toad."

Harry, who was beginning to feel warm and sleepy, to the point of ignoring Neville's extensive monologue, looked up at the High Table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet and blushing. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to the teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.

Percy turned and looked that way too, "Great. Professor Quirrell and Professor Snape are talking. This won't end well."

"Why?" asked Harry.

"Professor Snape despises small talk."

Professor Quirrell offered Snape a piece of cake, which was knocked out of his hands.

"He also despises cake. Actually, he despises nearly everything. He even ignores or twists the rules. Not surprising that he especially dislikes Quirrell. He's been after the Defense Against the Dark Arts post for years."

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Snape got to his feet. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem – just a few words now that you can hear me over your stomachs. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that, too," Snape glared at the Weasley twins, who smiled and waved, "Mr. Filch, the caretaker, will also punish anyone who uses magic between classes in the corridors," he gestured to a man with dirty, scraggly hair who was cradling a whip, some way off to his right, "Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact the instructor, Professor A. West. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to those who do not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did.

"And now, for the benefit of the first years, I shall introduce the various teachers. My name is Professor Snape, and I'm the Potions teacher. This is Professor McGonagall, the Sports coach and Transfiguration teacher. Here we have Professor Hagrid," he sneered on this one, "who, due to budget cuts, is our Herbology teacher, Care of Magical Creatures teacher, and Groundskeeper. This is Professor H.P. Lovecraft, our resident Divination and History of Magic teacher."

Several of the girls chattered amongst themselves.

"Quiet! This is Madam Pince, the Librarian. This is Professor Quirrell, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!" Snape growled, "Here is Professor West, our Muggle Studies teacher, and Quidditch referee. And this is Madam Zabini, the School Nurse. Unfortunately, Professor Zoriander is busy with other duties, and will not be able to teach Arithmancy this year. I will be filling in for her."

This brought a lot of angry muttering, and Fred and George both made a rude gesture in his direction.

Snape sighed, "And lastly, please join everyone but me in a round of the school song."

He walked back to his seat as the rest of the teachers rose and made their way to the front. Harry noticed that the other teachers all wore very fixed, fake smiles, and he was about to hear why.

Next time on HPMF:

Hermione: Look! I transfigured it into a needle!

Harry: Fantastic! Can you transfigure me an outstanding?

Snape: I'll be expecting your homework on my desk on Tuesday.

Neville: Eek! *faint*

Snape: And clean up this mess.


	5. Chapter 8: Wizards Don't Learn Grammar

I do not own Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, Youtube, or a working car.

Chapter 8: Life at a Wizarding Boarding School

"There, look."

"Where?"

"Next to the slacker with red hair."

"Glasses?"

"Yeah. Did you see his face?"

"Did you see his scar?"

Whispers followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory the next day. People lining up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at him, or doubled back to pass him in the corridors again, staring. A few girls had even squeezed his bottom. Harry wished they wouldn't, his butt would be too sore to sit on by the end of the day.

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked them politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls pretending. Why just the other day, he had tried to open a door, only for it to swear at him. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harry was sure the coats of armor could walk. He had occasional seen one that was flipping the bird to passers-by, and that was all the proof he needed.

And then, once you managed to find them, there were the classes themselves. There was a lot more to magic, as Harry quickly found out, than waving your wand and saying a few funny words.

They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight with Professor Lovecraft and learn the names of different stars and learn the movements of the planets. Three times a week they went out to study Herbology, and Hagrid created some new and exciting mini-disaster each class, and they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for.

They also had to go to the History of Magic class led also by Professor Lovecraft. It was pretty dull. The only thing that saved it from being a complete bore was the way that Professor Lovecraft described what had happened, such as how the battle of the Danube had gone, or the duel between Merlin and Morgan le Fey, almost as though he had been there.

Professor McGonagall was quite different from the other teachers. Harry quickly realized that she was not a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment thay sat down in her first class.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said in her thick Scottish accent, "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed the desk into a bust of William Shakespeare and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into statuary for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a pin and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione Granger had made any difference to her pin. Professor McGonagall showed the class how the pin had a small eye near the bottom and gave Hermione a rare smile, apparently not noticing the rude gesture Ron made under his desk in Hermione's direction.

The class everyone, well, the boys at least, had been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie. Harry knew this wasn't true. He had once spotted a label on it reading _Overlook Hotel_.

Harry was relieved to find out that he wasn't kilometers behind everyone else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like him, hadn't had any idea they were witches and wizards. There was so much to learn that even people like Ron didn't have much of a head start.

Friday was an important day for the boys of Gryffindor house. They finally managed to get down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once.

"What have we got today?" Harry asked Seamus as he poured sugar on his porridge. Dudley would have punched him if he saw Harry put any condiment on his food, let alone sugar.

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," said Seamus. "Snape's Head of Slytherin House. No surprise there. They say he always favors them – we'll be able to see if it's true."

"Wish McGonagall favored us," said Harry. Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor House, but it hadn't stopped her from giving them a huge pile of homework the day before.

Just then, the mail arrived. Harry had gotten used to this by now, but it had given him a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropped letters and packages into their laps.

Hedwig hadn't brought him anything so far, and he had begun to think he'd gotten a defective owl. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a pair of letters on Harry's plate. Harry tore open the first one, which was sealed in a brown envelope. The parchment inside smelled of whiskey and stale urine and covered with a scrawl that sloped off on the end, it said:

_Dear Harry,_

_I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig._

_Hagrid_

Harry borrowed Dean's quill and scribbled _Yes, please, see you later _on the back of the note, and resealed it in the envelope. Then he opened the other letter which was in a standard envelope with all the correct information and postage on it. It was addressed to _Harry Potter, at the stinking wizard school_. Harry sighed, and opened the envelope. Within was a sheet of white stationery covered in neat, impersonal lines of text:

_To boy,_

_You know that we've never loved you and have, for the longest time, wished to see the back of you. We cannot help but be happy that you have decided to go to a school with no tuition fees. On the other hand, we have no desire for the use of you know what in our house. Therefore, we hope that you will choose to stay at the school over Christmas, so that our house may remain holy during that most sacred of holidays. Do not expect any gifts or cards bearing well wishes. _

_Good Day_

Harry smirked and scrawled over the print in an untidy hand:

_Dear Uncle,_

_I am happy to hear that Dudley's tail is getting longer. It really brings out his personality. Tell me when the ears sprout. If possible, please include a picture I can enjoy here, as I am bemoaning the lack of anyone who has a face quite like Dudley's here. I will be sure to extend the same courtesy to you over the holidays, and I will, if possible remain here as long as I can. I'll be sure to send you a picture of "the back of me" since you all seem so intent to see it, with my next letter, and when I do come back, I will be sure to use MAGIC only at my discretion._

_Harry Potter, Esq._

Harry smirked again, replaced the letter in its envelope, wrote _return to sender_ upon it and gave both letters to Hedwig. Just then, a large parcel fell on the table in front of Dean, knocking over the kettle of Plasma Tea in the middle of the table, which spilled on Neville's lap, causing him to cry out in pain, and stand up clutching at his steaming, blood spattered groin. Harry and all the rest of the people burst into laughter as Neville sprinted from the hall at high speed with all the agility of a marathon runner.

It was lucky that Harry had tea with Hagrid to look forward to, because the Potions lesson turned out to be the worst thing that had happened to him at the school so far.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. Why the school needed dungeons, Harry didn't want to think about. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls. The only good part of this, was that the Slytherins looked just as uncomfortable with the decorations. At least, he hoped they were only decorations.

Snape started the class by taking role call and paused when he reached Harry's name.

"Ah, yes," he said,his voice loaded with sarcasm, "Harry Potter. As if we didn't already have enough problems with Lovecraft. We need yet another celebrity."

Draco Malfoy and his friends snickered behind their hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of a cup of Caribou Coffee which has been sitting on the table for an hour, and has gotten cold, but you don't want to drink because then you'd have to buy another to keep using the free Wi-Fi, just like I'm probably doing now.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," Snape began. He spoke in barely a whisper, but they caught every word – like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping the class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…. I can teach you to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – if you aren't as big a bunch of bloody idiots as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Seamus exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a bloody idiot.

"Potter!" exclaimed Snape suddenly, "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

_Add powdered a****** to an infusion of d*** wood?_ Harry glanced at Hermione, who was staring. Then he realized that he had said it aloud. Snape stared, too.

Snape sneered and then pushed on, "Let's try again, Potter. Where would you look if I told you to find a bezoar?"

"I don't know sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

Harry fought with all his might to hold back a retort. He _had_ looked through his books at the Leaky Cauldron, but did Snape expect him to remember everything in _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_?

Snape ignored Hermione's raised hand.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolf's bane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling.

"I don't know," said Harry coldly. "Do you?"

A few people laughed. Those that didn't go pale, anyway. Snape was most certainly not pleased.

"Thirty points from Gryffindor for idiocy!" he turned to Malfoy, who had been slouching moments before, but now sat with great rigidity. "You, Malfoy! Fifty points to Slytherin for good posture!"

"Thank you, sir," Malfoy said, shocked.

"Twenty points to Slytherin for politeness," Snape added, making all the Gryffindors' jaws drop.

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape ordered them to pair with students of the other house and set them to mixing a simple potion to cure boils. Harry found himself paired with the striking Blaise. Ron was paired with Draco Malfoy. Seamus found himself with one of Malfoy's cronies, and Dean was paired with the other. Hermione Granger became partner to Pansy Parkinson. Neville was left by himself, probably because Snape figured that he could screw up on his own, without a Slytherin offering him false instructions or sabotaging his cauldron, and he was right. Neville screwed up worse than anyone else within five minutes. Neville spilled his concoction all down his front, which then gave him boils, for some reason.

Ron's cauldron exploded a few minutes later. Hermione somehow wound up in Pansy's cauldron, up to her mini-skirt in bubbling green muck. Seamus and Dean managed to trick Crabbe and Goyle into sabotaging each other's cauldrons, and reached the end of the class safely, if with a potion a few steps short of completion. Aside from his apparent lack of motivation to do anything to help him, Blaise wasn't any trouble, and they had both produced a completed potion by the time the bell rang.

As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon, Harry and Dean supporting Neville, Harry felt that the class could have gone better. Why did Snape hate him so much?

"Cheer up," Dean said as they hauled Neville up the next flight of stairs, "Snape's always taking points off older students. Can I come and meet Hagrid with you?"

At ten to three Harry, Dean, and Seamus left the castle and made their way through the maze of frivolous shrubbery that impeded the path to Hagrid's hut, like thay were on some kind of platforming game. They arrived about three minutes late, so they waited an additional minute, so that they weren't outside the castle for thirteen minutes. A pair of wellington boots and a crossbow were just outside the front door.

When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice called out, saying, "Back, Fang – back." There was a loud ripping noise followed by, "D*****, Fang, that's my leg!"

Hagrid's face appeared in the crack as they pulled the door open.

"Hang on," he said, "Back, Fang."

He let them in, his face a dark red of extreme intoxication, while at the same time struggling to unclamp the jaws of an enormous black boarhound from his trouserleg. The rest of the visit proceeded in a fairly normal manner. When Hagrid stood up to put the kettle back over the fire, Harry noticed a copy of the Daily Prophet which was half-hidden beneath a tea cozy. Harry glanced at the front page.

**Gringotts Break-In Latest**

There was a robbery on the 31st of July in which vault number seven hundred and something-or-other was broken into, but as the vault had been emptied previously on the same day, the culprit was flipped one humongous bird.

Harry checked his horoscope next.

**Leo**

You will be presented with an obvious clue, but not immediately recognize it.

Harry grimaced and resigned himself to the fact that even authentically magical horoscopes were scams.

As the three Gryffindors walked back to the castle, Harry puzzled over the bizarre coincidence that the day he and Hagrid had gone to Gringotts, there had been a break-in. Harry put his hands in his pockets, then grimaced as they came into contact with the sticky Tortoise Clots he had been too polite to refuse. If there was one thing he missed about the muggle world, it was the confectionery.

Next time on HPMF:

Harry: We're going out tonight!

Ron: On a date? Found some hot girls?

Harry: Sorry, that's not what I meant.

Draco: You're going down, Potter!

Harry: In your dreams!

Ron: If I sold tickets for this I'd make a fortune!


	6. Intermission: That One Weird Chapter

I do not own the word "intermission," the original song, or the rights to any Clint Eastwood film.

Intermission: That One Weird Chapter

**In Which the Entire School Sings the School Song**

Harry grimaced and then he, along with the rest of the school, began to sing the school song to the wacky orchestration of Professor Dumbledore:

"_Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_Teach us to be smart, not brutish louts,_

_Whether we be Chinese or French,_

_Prepubescent or legally adults,_

_Our heads could do with filling_

_With some tasty, sugary stuff,_

_For now they're full of air,_

_Impure thoughts, and bits of fluff,_

_So teach us things worth knowing,_

_Force you religious beliefs on us,_

_Just show your trust, we'll drink lots of alcohol ,_

_And die only when our livers no longer work!"_

Harry turned to Ron and asked, "Isn't the school theme a little strange?"

Ron shrugged.

Hermione, who was on his other side, whispered, "The founders generally left the less tasteful tasks to Salazar Slytherin."

Fred and George, a row above them lean forward and joined in, speaking simultaneously, "It's an improvement on the original. There was a _lot_ of dull unfunny stuff in there. Thank the Lord Dumbledore's headmaster."

Dumbledore clapped his hands together, did a back flip and swept one hand over the back of the other.

The students filed out of the Great Hall and went back to their dormitories.

**Yes, Wizards Have Sex Ed. Classes**

The Dungeon walls were bleak and dripped with a green slime of indeterminable origin. Snape shifted around uncomfortably behind the podium. Harry doodled in his notebook as Snape presented the finer points of reproduction with a clipshow made in the 1950's primarily featuring amoebic multiplication. Snape then passed out pamphlets on _the Narwhals and the Dolphins_. Harry had much experience in this subject. Uncle Vernon had first exposed him to the information when he was eight years old, like any other child with a Christian Texan Guardian. The one thing he didn't know on the subject was _how _to attract a girl. Just about every other boy in his year seemed to have the same problem.

Earlier, he had gone to Fred and George for advice.

"So, you want to know the way of the world, eh, Harry?"

"Well you both seem to be good with the ladies. Nothing against the les thing, Fred – er, George. Wait, which one of you is the girl anyway?"

"Me," one said, not said saying her name.

"Nevermind. Why did your parents give both of you male names?"

"Well, we chose our names for ourselves, you see."

"Can the school tell you two apart from your student I.D.?"

"Nah," one laughed as the other explained with a devious smile, "When we showed up to the physical exams, we swapped rooms every time the examiners left, and they got confused, see?"

He/she extended his/her student I.D. for Harry's examination. It read:

Name: Fred Weasley

Age: 13

Sex:?

Harry stared for a few seconds.

"Right, let's get back on track," George said, still smiling, "We woo the ladies by being clever. Charlie used to get the girls with his muscle. Bill is – well, cool. You," he stopped and thought for a minute, "You are a born ladykiller. Who are you mooning after, anyway?"

"Well," Harry blushed, "There's this really cute Ravenclaw –"

Fred and George smiled and said at the exact same time, "Cho Chang."

Harry almost tipped over but straightened himself in time.

"How did you -?"

"She's a real fox, mate. We tried, but she's as smart as any Ravenclaw, and cleverer than anyone besides ourselves. We tried, without success, but maybe you should try your luck. I guess we're just not her type. Be careful though, she could seduce a dementor."

Harry glanced up from his drawing to see Snape dying at the front of the class. He was stuttering off lines from cue cards and his knees were trembling. Then he noticed Harry smiling at him evilly. His manner changed abruptly.

"Curse you, Potter! You wouldn't have the balls to do this if it were a matter of life and death!"

"At least I'm not dumb enough to volunteer."

"I only got shanghaied into this because Dumbledore laughs himself into senility every time he says the word –" Snape clapped a hand to his mouth, then continued, "You clever little! Seventy points from Gryffindor! And, you will teach all sex ed. classes from now on! Ha! Take that!"

Snape stormed down the aisle and took a seat in the back. Harry stood up and slowly made his way to the front of the room, desperately trying to remember Uncle Vernon's lessons.

**Neville Longbottom and the President's Fitness Challenge**

Professor McGonagall brought her arm back, then thrust it forward, launching the shotput a good seventy meters before landing in a large metal tub on the other end of the Quidditch field. She turned and watched the Gryffindors attempt to copy her feat. Their results were varied. While many of the upperclassmen and the Gryffindor chasers were able to send the shotput a good way down the field, many of the younger students were less successful.

Neville Longbottom stood out, even from that group.

"Longbottom," she called in her outrageous Scottish accent, "Do a couple of laps for me."

Neville began to run around the Quidditch field and was panting before he had run thirty meters.

"Longbottom, get over here! Did you learn to run last week? We need to get you into shape!"

"But, I suck at everything, Professor!"

"Longbottom," she suddenly laughed, "Oh, goodness, that's funny! Longbottom, the Gryffindors have not won the President's Fitness Challenge in over fifty years. Partially because it was a competition that was deemed too dangerous because of the number of competitors who were under-hydrated, over-weight, or had a serious heart condition and was ended shortly after the school was rebuilt in the 50's, about the time of the incident."

"What incident?"

"Shut up, Longbottom. This is the only cool Hufflepuff. He'll be your coach. He reports directly to me, so I'll know if you're slacking."

"What if I forget, Professor?"

"Dumbledore gave me permission to use whatever methods of punishment I need to use."

"Does that mean –?"

"Yes, I can force feed you cabbage and beetle eyes."

"Cabbage!"

"Hagrid's been growing some big heads for just this purpose. Do not disappoint me."

Afterwards, Neville spent each day running around the Quidditch field. He wasn't alone though. He had good competition in the form of Gryffindor's physical fanatic, Herbert; the Slytherin seventh year, Apollo Creed Jr.; and the Hufflepuff star athlete, Cedric Diggory. Rather unsurprisingly, Ravenclaw students weren't required to take Phy. ed. It seemed that since they weren't required to, none chose to exercise. As Neville ran laps around the Quidditch course each day, he felt deep regret for not asking the sorting hat to put him in Ravenclaw house.


	7. Chapter 9: The Trick Title

I do not own James Bond, Pepsi, or Dairy Queen.

Chapter 9: The Late Night Excursion

Harry had never believed that he would meet a boy he hated more than Dudley, and he was right. Draco Malfoy _did_ manage to hold a close second, though. Still, first-year Gryffindors only had Potions with the Slytherins, so he didn't have to put up with Malfoy's antics much. Or at least, they didn't until they spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room that made them all groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.

"Typical," said Ron darkly. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of girls."

Harry had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else, and he wasn't going to let the misfortune of learning with the Slytherins get him down.

"You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself," said Harry reasonably. "Anyway, I know you're really into Blaise, but no one will know how to fly. Will they?"

Ron paled.

Malfoy claimed to be an excellent flier and complained often and loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams. He also told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. He wasn't the only one, though: the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming about the countryside on his broomstick. Harry knew it for a fact, from Seamus himself, that he'd never have had the chance, because his parents made him look after his little sister, Shaina, since he was old enough to walk, despite their one year age difference. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Ron had already had a big argument with Dean Thomas about soccer. Ron couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly. A few seconds later, he was sufficiently excited when Seamus set a picture of the West Ham soccer team on fire while trying to get them to move by prodding them.

Neville had never been on a broomstick before in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Harry felt she had good reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents in physical and magical classes.

Hermione Granger was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book – not that she hadn't tried. At breakfast on Thursday she bored them all stupid with flying tips she'd gotten out of a book called _Quidditch Through the Ages. _Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everyone else was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.

Harry hadn't had a single letter since Hagrid's note, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course. Malfoy's eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his Grandmother. After Neville had fished it out of his juice, he opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things – this tells you if there's something you've forgotten something important. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red – oh…" His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, "…you've forgotten something…"

Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was coincidentally passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.

Harry and Seamus jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.

"What's going on?" she asked in her absurdly Scottish accent.

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.

"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle, his bodyguards, behind him.

Professor McGonagall rounded on Neville, "Longbottom! You have ten minutes to be down at the Quidditch pitch for your laps, you had better hurry."

At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry, Ron, and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a flat patch of open grass beside the hedges surrounding Hagrid's hut.

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat rows on the ground. Harry had heard Fred and George complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

Their teacher, Professor West, arrived. He had short black hair and bags under his eyes.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" he barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick! Come on, hurry up!"

Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

"Stick out your dominant hand over your broom," said Professor West, "and say 'UP!'"

"UP!" everyone shouted.

Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Hermione Granger's simply rolled around on the ground, and Neville's nailed him at the joining of the legs. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Harry; there was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his broom on the ground.

Professor West then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Harry and Ron were delighted when he told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years and that the twigs should face the back.

"NOW WHEN I BLOW MY WHISTLE, YOU KICK OFF FROM THE GROUND, HARDER THAN A CLASSIC NINTENDO GAME!" shouted Professor West. "KEEP YOUR BROOM STEADY, RISE A COUPLE METERS, AND THEN COME STRAIGHT BACK DOWN BY LEANING FORWARD SLIGHTLY! ON MY WHISTLE – THREE – TWO –"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off harder than Contra before the silly looking whistle had touched Professor West's lips.

"COME BACK, S*******!" he shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a fat kid sucked up a chocolate pipe – twelve meters – twenty meters – thirty meters. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, his eyes roll up in his head, and –

WHAM – a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap. Malfoy and his cronies laughed and laughed as Neville's broom suddenly fell and hit his unconscious body.

Professor West checked his watch then pointed his wand at Neville. A bluish sparkle swept across Neville's body and returned to his wand.

"BROKEN A**!," he shouted. "YOU, PRAWN AND YOU, PERVERTED, HAUL LONGA** TO THE HOSPITAL WING! AND DON'T TOUCH HIS REAR! He s*** himself."

As Ron and Parvati lifted Neville by the shoulders and carried him to the hospital wing, doubtlessly causing more harm, the rest of the class wiped the tears from their eyes and tried to catch their breath, while still smiling.

He turned to the rest of the class and resumed use of his outsi – err, voice.

"NONE OF YOU IS TO MOVE WHILE I GO TAKE A PISS! YOU LEAVE THOSE BROOMS WHERE THEY ARE OR I'LL HAVE YOU POLISHING BROOMHANDLES FOR A MONTH!"

Professor West stomped behind the hedge. No sooner was he out of sight than Malfoy straddled his broom.

"Look!" said Malfoy, waving a glass ball clutched in his fist. "It's Longa**'s forgetful ball! I think I'll leave it somewhere fun for him to retrieve it from, like in Hagrid's outhouse!"

"Stop! Bring that back!" Harry shouted, but Malfoy had already begun to fly away. He hadn't been lying, he _could_ fly level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it!"

Harry grabbed his broom.

"No!" shouted Dean. "I want to see Neville dig through Hagrid's s***." Harry ignored him.

Blood was pounding in his ears. Crabbe and Goyle were taking bets. He mounted his broom, and he kicked the ground harder than Contra 2. The gust generated by his kickoff consoled the boys by making the girls' skirts flutter. Hermione Granger took no notice and went on reading her book.

Air rushed through his hair, and his robes whipped out behind him – and in a rush of fierce joy he realized he'd found something he could do without being taught – this was easy, this was _wonderful_. He pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher, and heard shrieks from the girls and groans from the Slytherins.

He turned his broom sharply to face Malfoy in midair. He looked miffed.

"Give it here!" shouted Harry, "or you'll have a broken a**, too!"

"Oh, yeah?" said Malfoy, trying to sneer, though he obviously needed to practice it more.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, genius!" Harry called.

Malfoy went deathly pale. He drew back his arm to throw it to Harry, but nearly fell off his broom and dropped it.

"S***!" he yelled.

Harry leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down – next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball – wind whistled in his ears, mingled with the cheers of the Slytherins – he reached out his hand – a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, nailing Goyle in his sensitive spot. Harry toppled off the broom onto Goyle's back with the Rememrall clutched safely in his fist.

"HARRY POTTER!"

His heart sank faster than he just dived. They all turned toward the hedge, and were surprised to see no one there, then turned toward the castle and Professor McGonagall. Harry got to his feet, trembling.

"_Never_ – in all my time at Hogwarts –"

"I'm sorry, Professor. Malfoy –"

"That was a d*** good catch!" she shouted like a drunken Scotsman. "Follow me, Potter. And Fifty points from Slytherin for fumbling, Malfoy!"

Harry and Professor McGonagall walked up the castle. Harry was proud of himself. He had done something foolish and it had paid off. Professor McGonagall led him to a classroom. She stuck her head inside.

"Excuse me, Professor Lovecraft, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"

Wood was a burly fifth-year boy with short brown hair.

"Follow me, you two," Professor McGonagall said in her ridiculous accent.

"In here."

"You know I'm not gay, Professor," Wood said, turning his head.

"Shut up and get inside."

Professor McGonagall pulled them into a classroom and shut the door behind them.

"Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood – I've found you a Seeker."

Wood's expression changed from puzzlement to delight.

Harry frowned, "What's a Seeker?" Harry asked. He thought Seekers might be important, but that was mostly because it was capitalized.

"Are you serious, Professor?"

"Absolutely," said Professor McGonagall crisply. "The boy's a natural. I've never seen anything like it. Well, not since the 1965 World Cup between America and Vietnam. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?"

Harry nodded silently. Best not to overplay his hand.

"He caught that thing after a fifty-foot dive," Professor McGonagall told Wood in her ridiculous accent. "Didn't even scratch himself."

"Well, he probably hasn't even hit puberty, Professor, I kind of doubt he would 'til then."

"Wood is captain of the Gryffindor team," Professor McGonagall explained.

"He's just the build for a Seeker," said Wood, now walking around Harry and staring at him. "Light – seedy - we'll have to get him a decent broom, Professor – a Cleansweep Seven, maybe."

"I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the first-year rule. Heaven knows it wouldn't be difficult to convince him."

Professor McGonagall peered sternly over her glasses at Harry.

"I want to hear you're training hard, Potter, or I may change my mind about punishing you."

Then she donned a very fake smile.

"Don't disappoint me."

"You're _joking_."

It was dinnertime. Harry had just finished telling the other Gryffindors what had happened when he'd left the grounds with Professor McGonagall. Dean had a piece of olophant steak and kappa kidney pie halfway to his mouth, but he'd forgotten all about it.

"_Seeker_?" Percy gaped. "But first years _never_ – and I really mean never – get to play! It's completely against the –"

"Rules," Fred and George said simultaneously. "You're always going on about them. Did you screw the rulebook last night?"

"I love rules! I would never seek to break them!"

"No, we mean, literally, did screw them?"

"I start training next week," said Harry. "Only don't tell anyone. Wood wants to keep it a secret."

Fred and George shrugged, "Don't worry about us, we're on the team, too – Beaters. Anyway, it's about time we go. We have to check into a rumor about something naughty."

Fred and George had hardly disappeared when Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle showed up.

"Having a last meal, Whatever-your-first-name-is Potter? When are you getting the train back to the M********?"

"Firstly, what the hell is a M*******? Second, I can see that you're feeling a lot more secure now that your bouncers are covering your flanks."

"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Malfoy. "Tonight if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only – no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a Wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

"Hold on. If you're a wizard, why don't you just call it a duel?"

"Less talking, more agreeing."

Seamus stepped up next to Harry and punched his shoulder. "I'm his second, who's yours?"

"Crabbe."

Crabbe turned to Malfoy with a twisted frown on his face, "Can we vote?"

"NO! We'll meet at midnight in the trophy room. It's big enough for a duel, but not important enough to even get mentioned past book two, and therefore, how the room will look afterward won't matter."

When Malfoy had gone, Ron walked up and put a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Good luck. I'll come with."

"Thanks."

"I'm not going to help. It just sounds entertaining. I'll bring snacks. Got any allergies?"

"No."

"Excuse me."

Harry and Ron turned and noticed Hermione Granger.

"Can't a person conspire to break the rules in peace?"

Hermione ignored him and turned to Harry.

"I couldn't help but overhear that you're planning to fight that p****, Malfoy."

"And?"

"And it sounds fun, I want to come with," she muttered.

"This is rather out of character, don't you think?" Ron wondered aloud.

"Of course, I only want to come with to stop you. Even if I really do want to see Malfoy get his arse kicked and needed an excuse in case we got caught."

"That's devious. Why aren't you in Slytherin? Or Ravenclaw? Either one would better suit your character."

"A couple reasons. I didn't want to be in the same house as Malfoy, because he kept looking up my skirt. And Ravenclaw was out, because I wouldn't stand out in talent among them."

Harry, Ron, and Seamus gaped.

Terry Boot walked over as the three stood there with geese nesting in their open mouths.

"Hey, guys. I heard you were going to fight Draco in the trophy room. Can I watch?"  
>"Sure, whatever, you sugar addicted Smurf," Ron muttered, trying not to strangle Terry out of sheer frustration.<p>

"Half-past eleven," Seamus murmured, "we'd better go."

They pulled on their bathrobes, picked up their wands, and crept across the tower room, down the spiral staircase, and into the Gryffindor common room. A few embers were still glowing in the fireplace, turning all the armchairs into hunched black shadows. They were almost to the portrait hole when a voice spoke from the chair nearest them, "I can't believe you were going to leave me behind."

"Yeah, sure," Ron snorted.

A lamp flickered on. It was Hermione Granger, wearing a pink nightdress and a smirk.

"Of course, I could tell Percy if you didn't bring me with."

"Welcome to the team!"

"Then let's go!" Harry said, frustrated. He pushed open the portrait of the Big Boned Lady and climbed through the hole.

Ron came next, dropping a couple pieces of popcorn as he stepped out. Seamus followed him. Hermione followed Seamus, then squeaked when a gust of wind up the hall made her nightdress swirl.

"It's _cold_ out here! I should have worn pants!"

All the boys bent their knees visibly.

Hermione pointed behind them, "You!"

They all turned and spotted Terry Boot step out of the shadows.

"Hey guys!"

"Dang it!" Harry muttered. "This is _just _what we needed!"

"Hold on," said Hermione.

She cast a spell on him. Terry gasped and his eyes shifted out of focus.

"He can no longer say anything. And he won't remember what happens until someone removes the curse."

Ron gaped, "Hermione, you are brilliant."

"I know, right."

"But you're too full of yourself."

She frowned at him and fixed him with a stare of deepest loathing.

"Don't worry," Harry whispered to Ron. "She'll warm up to you by book seven."

The five students made their silent way through the halls. Well, as silent as you can be when trying to stifle laughter caused by taunting someone who wouldn't remember anything. They finally reached the trophy room.

Hermione was about to step in when Harry grabbed her arm, "Hold on a second. This is too easy."

He kicked Terry in the rear. As soon as his foot hit the floor, he turned to stone.

Hermione gasped, "It's a petrifaction spell!"

She removed her spell on Terry, wiping his memory. Then they fled as quickly as they could.

They heard Filch in the hall nearby, coming closer. They could tell it was him because he was muttering a steady stream of swearwords as he walked.

"Look a door!" whispered Ron.

He tried the handle.

"S***! It's locked!"

"Oh, move over!" Hermione snarled. She tapped the wand with her lock and whispered the very prettily named spell, "Aloha Mora!"

The lock clicked and door swung open – they piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.

"Nothing," Ron whispered, relieved.

Harry turned around to try to figure out just where they were. For a moment, he was sure he'd walked into a nightmare – this was too much on top of what had already happened.

He was looking into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole place between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Harry knew that the only reason they weren't dead was that it was considering whether to empty its dog bowl first. Seeing a giant plastic bowl with the word "Fluffy" on the side gave Harry the perverse desire to laugh.

Harry groped for the doorknob.

"Ooh! Someone's grabbing my –" Hermione cried.

"Sorry!"

They fell backward – Harry slammed the door shut, and they ran, almost flew back to Gryffindor tower.

They stumbled through the portrait hole and collapsed into the armchairs around the fire. It was a while before anyone said anything. Ron, indeed, looked like he'd run ten kilos.

"What do you think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" Seamus said finally. "If any dog needs exercise, it's that one."

Hermione had got her breath back and took a moment to twitch her nightdress hem down half a foot.

"You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" she snapped.

"Yeah, sure. It was standing over a trapdoor, which it seemed to be guarding. Not to mention it was a Rottweiler, which is a guard dog." Harry wheezed. He wasn't in too good of shape himself.

"And," Hermione added, "It was in the third floor corridor!"

"Hey," said Ron, "That's the place that kids go to to die! Remember what Snape said?"

Hermione stood up, glaring at them.

"I hope you're pleased with yourselves. We could have all been killed. Now, in case anyone's listening, I'm going to bed, still very upset about being shanghaied into going with you against my will."

Ron stared after her, his mouth open.

"I wonder what's in the vault," Harry pondered. "Ron, your line."

"Did you see as she went up the stairs, she really _isn't _wearing pants!"

Harry turned around quickly, but Hermione was already closing the door.

"Shoot!"

Then he remembered something important.

"Hagrid and I collected a grimy little package from vault seven-something-something in chapter five! The same day that that Gringotts break-in supposedly happened! I wonder what Hagrid did with it… Hopefully, he put it somewhere safe."

Next time on HPMF:

Ron: I'm going to get a ton of candy!

Luna: Can I have some?

Ron: I'm not sharing!

Harry: Who are you talking to?


	8. Chapter 10: What About the Troll?

I do not own Roget's Thesaurus, Cool Whip, or Montana. Not yet, anyway.

Chapter 10: 'Alloween

The next morning, the Gryffindors were surprised to find a notice pinned up in the common room. It was a clipping from the wizarding newspaper, _The Daily Prophet, _which depicted a man whom Harry wouldn't have been surprised to learn was a member of the Hell's Angels. According to the clipping, his name was Sirius Black.

"Sirius Black!" Ron cried.

"What? Who is he?" Harry asked, curious.

"Only one of the most violent criminals in forever! Come here, Scabbers, don't be afraid, he'd never be able to get into Hogwarts. There ain't nowhere safer than Hogwarts!"

"Why are you talking like Hagrid?"

"I don't know, I'm not trying to."

Through breakfast, Sirius Black was the _only_ subject.

"I heard he killed like fifty muggles!"

"I heard it was five _hundred_!"

"But Azkaban is inescapable!"

Harry and Seamus dropped onto the bench next to Ron.

"So, I think last night went pretty well, don't you?" Harry commented.

"Well? I had a front row seat to looking up Hermione's skirt!" Ron whispered.

"A point you've made numerous times," Seamus sighed.

"I think it's overrated, anyway," Harry said bitterly.

Suddenly, Justin Finch-Fletchley, rushing past, tripped over Harry's book bag.

"Are you alright?"

"NO! Have you guys heard the news?"

"Yeah, of course," Ron groaned. "Sirius Black broke out of Azkaban. That's ancient history now."

"No, not that. Last night, Professor Quirrell discovered Hannah Abbott passed out in the hallway! She hasn't woken up yet, and they found bite marks on her neck!"

Someone screamed. Everyone turned to see Neville dancing in place, clutching his once more burned crotch. The entire hall laughed him out of the room.

"A vampire," Ron pondered. "Just what we need. As though we weren't in enough danger, what with Sirius Black on the run."

"If only we had noticed when the Dragongout freaks all disappeared one by one, we might not have had any Hufflepuffs get hurt," Justin said sadly.

"I probably wouldn't have noticed until all the Hufflepuffs were gone," Ron commented in Seamus's ear.

Just then, Hermione walked into their conversation, flanked by Susan Bones and a blond girl with a far-off expression.

"You three are the most irresponsible people I have ever met. Just now, you, Harry, tripped poor Justin," Hermione scolded, "And you, Ron! You kicked the table, knocking over Neville's tea and causing him further childhood trauma!"

"Like I care," Ron muttered.

"Hey! Harry didn't trip Justin! He just tripped over Harry's bag!" Seamus defended Harry. "And Ron – Yeah, I'm not going to defend Ron."

The girl with blond hair stepped forward. "Oh, you are Harry Potter? It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Luna Lovegood. I'm sorry to say that I haven't had the pleasure of meeting you yet. You're the boy who lived, huh? Did your parents use a spell to protect you, or is it an innate natural ability? If so, is the ability a form of magical reversal, absorption, or nullification? If it's a natural ability, was it passed along your mother or father's line? Has it manifested itself in you more powerfully, or less powerfully? Do you know what is required to maintain or expand your ability, or has it already disappeared? Can I study it and attempt to copy it? Does it follow a numeric, phonetic, or grammatical code? Is it in Sanskrit, Greek, Latin, or Epochian? Have you ever done a forced activation? Can I do a forced activation?"

"What?"

"Oh, you are Harry Potter? It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Luna Lovegood. I'm sorry to say that I haven't had the pleasure of meeting you yet. You're the boy who lived, huh? Did your parents use a spell to protect you, or is it an innate natural ability? If so, is the ability a form of magical reversal, absorption, or nullification? If it's a natural ability, was it passed along your mother or father's line? Has it manifested itself in you more powerfully, or less powerfully? Do you know what is required to maintain or expand your ability, or has it already disappeared? Can I study it and attempt to copy it? Does it follow a numeric, phonetic, or grammatical code? Is it in Sanskrit, Greek, Latin, or Epochian? Have you ever done a forced activation? Can I do a forced activation?"

"What?"

"Oh, you are Harry Potter? It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Luna Lovegood. I'm sorry to say that I haven't had –"

"Look, could you give me the short, easy to understand version? Or at least ask them one at a time?"

"I'm Luna Lovegood. It's nice to meet you."

"I'm Harry Potter, it's nice to meet you, too."

Luna took a deep breath, and Hermione put an arm between them.

"Sorry, Luna. Harry, Luna is in Ravenclaw. She is one of the strongest-willed students." She leaned close. "And she's a little crazy."

"You – You're mean!" Luna cried and fled the hall, pursued by laughter.

When Harry wiped the tears from his eyes, he managed, "That – ha ha – That was mean!"

"I was rather hoping she wouldn't hear, but, well, you saw what she's like."

"Are you done scolding us, then?" Ron asked, hopeful.

"I'm not half done."

Just then, the mail arrived. All eyes were on an oddly shaped package. The snowy owl swooped down and deposited the broom at Harry's feet. He offered her some toast chunks as Seamus ripped open the attached note. Neville slid, unnoticed onto the bench opposite them.

"It's a good thing we opened this first! Here, read it, Harry."

Harry accepted the letter.

It read:

DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE.

It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you in the hall outside the Muggle Studies classroom before the first bell. The first training session is at seven o' clock on the Quidditch field. Don't be late.

Professor M. McGonagall

Harry had difficulty hiding his glee as he passed the note to Ron and walked swiftly from the hall. Ron read it and passed it to Seamus and rushed after Harry. Seamus read it, grinned, and jogged after the other two. Hermione handed it off to Susan, before following Seamus, Ron, and Harry, looking ready to shout. Susan read it and passed it to Neville before walking calmly after Hermione. Neville was about to look at it when Draco dumped hot tea on his pants and snatched the note away. Malfoy scanned the page and crushed the note in his fist and ran for the exit.

Harry walked down the Muggle Studies corridor, looking around. He could hear shouting in the stairwell behind him. By the sound of it, Hermione, Ron, and Seamus were all arguing. He sighed and continued looking. Wood stepped out of Professor West's room.

"AND DON'T FORGET TO STUDY FOR THE TEST ON BATMAN!" Harry heard the Professor shout as the door shut.

"Thank goodness you showed up, Harry. I thought I was going deaf just by being in the same room as him."

Draco stood against the wall, hidden from Harry and Wood by a pillar.

"Well, Harry, I'm happy to say that you're now officially a member of the team. You've got to be the youngest beater in like a century! We haven't won since Charlie Weasley graduated, but with you on the team, we stand a better chance than we ever have. We've assembled an all-star team of the – Shoot!"

Harry turned to see a South American girl coming toward them, looking in her pocket for something as she walked. Wood looked around desperately and spotted Draco leaning out from the pillar. Wood grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him into a full kiss. The girl looked up and almost dropped her cell phone before turning and walking quickly in the other direction. Wood let go of Malfoy, who slid to the floor.

"That was Katie Bell. She's on the team, too. Listen, we were dating for the last couple years, but she wanted commitment and – I think you get the picture."

"Oh, okay."

"I suppose I'll just tell you about the team later on the pitch."

"Yeah, I'm fine with that."

Harry headed off for his first class as the first bell rang, and Wood went to his. Draco just sat on the ground, staring into empty space with a blush spread across his cheeks and a hand on his lips.

At seven o' clock, Harry left the castle and set off in the dusk toward the Quidditch field. He'd never been inside the stadium before. Hundreds of seats were raised in stands around the field so that the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At either end of the field were three golden poles with hoops on the end. They reminded Harry of the little plastic sticks Muggle children blew bubbles through, except that they were fifty feet high.

Too eager to fly again to wait for Wood, Harry mounted his broom and kicked off from the ground. What a feeling – he swooped in and out of the goal posts and sped up and down the field. The Nimbus Two Thousand turned wherever he wanted at his lightest touch.

"Hey, Potter, come down!"

Oliver Wood had arrived. He was carrying a large wooden crate under his arm. Harry landed next to him.

"Very nice," said Wood, his eyes glinting. "I see what McGonagall meant… you really are a natural. I'm just going to teach you the rules this evening, then you'll be joining team practice three times a week.

He opened the crate. Inside were four different-sized balls.

"Right," said Wood. "Now Quidditch is easy enough to understand, even if it's not too easy to play."

"That's reassuring."

"Indeed. There are seven players on each side. Sort of like how there are seven years at Hogwarts, seven palantir, seven girls I've slept with, and seven bathrooms in the school."

"What?"

"Seven bathrooms in the school. It never ceases to amaze me how few there are. Three players are called Chasers. Take note of the capitalization."

"Three Chasers, and the c is capitalized," Harry repeated, writing it down on a notepad as Wood took out a bright red ball about the size of a football. Yes, in Britain, soccer is called football.

"This ball's called the Quaffle," said Wood. "Or as we call it in Gryffindor, the snake's brain. The Chasers throw the Quaffle to each other and try to get it through one of the hoops to score a goal. Ten points every time the ball goes through one of the hoops. Follow me?"

"It's like football on brooms, but you throw the ball like a baseball instead of kick it."

"Exactly!" Wood exclaimed. "That's a much better way of putting it."

"Why do you jump up by tens?"

"It gives the crowd the impression that the distance between the two scores is that much greater."

"Oh, that makes sense."

"Now there's another player on each side called the Keeper. That's a goalie on a broom."

"Got it."

"Now, I'll show you what a Bludger does. The b is capitalized."

"I think I've got that figured out."

Wood passed Harry a short baseball bat-like club.

"These two balls are Bludgers, and it's their job to pummel players into submission."

Wood freed one of the two black balls. At once, it rose high in the air and then pelted straight at Harry's face. Harry swung at it with the bat, knocking it across the field and through a goal hoop. It flew back toward them and Wood dove on top of it, pinning it to the ground.

"See?" Wood panted, forcing the struggling Bludger back into the crate and strapping it down safely. "Of course, the school Bludgers have been altered so they won't kill you."

"Er – have the Bludgers ever killed anyone?" Harry asked, hoping he sounded offhand.

"Not in the last ten years, no. Besides, we have Fred and George. The pair of them are more than a match for the Bludgers – I mean, they're like a pair of human Bludgers themselves, the b*******."

Wood reached into the crate and pulled out the last ball. It was tiny compared to its siblings and was a bright gold with little fluttering silver wings.

"This," said Wood, "is the Golden Snitch, and it's the most important ball of the lot. It's very hard to catch because it moves so fast. It's the Seeker's job to catch it. You have to catch it before the other team's Seeker does, though, because whichever team catches the snitch earns an extra one hundred and fifty points."

"Why even have the other balls?"

"I don't make the rules, I just exploit them. A game of Quidditch only ends when the Snitch is caught, so it can go on for ages. I think the record is like six months. Turns out the Snitch was caught by a lucky fan ten minutes in. Well, that's it – any questions?"

"I think I've got it," Harry said, smiling and nodding."We won't practice with the Snitch yet," said Wood, carefully shutting it back inside the crate. "it's too dark, we might lose it. Let's try you out with a few of these."

He pulled a bag of ordinary golf balls out of his pocket and a few minutes later, he and Harry were up in the air, Wood throwing the golf balls as hard as he could in every direction for Harry to catch.

Harry didn't miss a single one, and Wood was delighted. After half an hour, night had really fallen and they couldn't carry on.

"That Quidditch cup'll have our name on it this year," said Wood happily as they trudged back up to the castle. "I wouldn't be surprised if you went on to play for England, Harry."

Perhaps it was because he was now so busy, what with Quidditch practice three evenings a week on top of all his homework, but Harry could hardly believe it when he realized that he'd already been at Hogwarts two months. Harry realized that in all that time, he'd never even taken a bath.

When he commented on it to Ron, he was met with a laugh.

"You neither? I thought I was the only one lazy enough. You need to wash up if you're going to ask Cho out. Come on, I'm sure Percy can tell us where they are," Ron laughed and waved for Harry to follow him.

Percy was annoyed to discover how long they'd gone without washing, but told them where to go.

They followed his instructions, find the statue of Boris the Bewildered, and said the password, "Pine fresh."

They entered the deserted bathroom.

"Why is it so empty?" Harry wondered aloud.

"Well," Ron said, "Since we're not required to bathe, only a handful really do it."

"Huh, that's funny. Not even the girls?"

"Nope, it's a mixed bath."

"Too bad."

They stripped down and lowered themselves into the perpetually warm water.

"This place is awesome! It's like a swimming pool!" Harry exclaimed cheerfully.

"It's not _too_ bad," Ron admitted.

There was a splash and a blond head erupted out of the water nearby. Harry and Ron both jumped and shouted, "Whoa!"

The person pulled their blond hair away from their eyes. When she saw them, Luna gave a yelp.

"Sorry!" Harry averted his eyes.

Ron just stared. "Cool."

"Sorry, we didn't know anyone was in here."

Thank goodness the bath was full of bubbles. Luna sank down until her eyes and nose were the only part of her face they could see. She drifted to the far side of the bath, where they could now make out a small pile of clothes. She pulled a towel into the pool and wrapped herself in it. At the same time, Harry and Ron were doing the same.

"So, nice bath, then?"

"Nice," she agreed.

The door opened to admit Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini.

"Great, the one night I decide to take a bath, the water is dirtier than me," Draco complained to himself.

"Well, we're quite fine without you uglying up the place, Malfoy," Ron growled. "Of course, we'd be honored if you joined us, Blaise."

"I'm not going to be told where I can and can't be naked by you," Draco glared daggers at him.

Luna took the opportunity to get dressed while the others were occupied with increasingly funny dialogue. Blaise spent his time doing the opposite, and slipped into the water as Luna slipped from the room. Draco finally got tired of arguing and changed out of his clothes.

Ron snickered, "Hey, that's a nice butterfly tattoo, Malfoy."

"What was that, blood traitor?"

"At least I have a heart Malfoy, to pump mine with."

"What kind of comeback is that?" Malfoy jeered. "I don't need a heart. I've got money. What does your family have, corn?"

"And potatoes!" Ron exclaimed.

"Pride of the Irish people. He's got the hair, freckles, and temper to prove it."

"At least I'm not a cruel albino git like you."

"I may be a cruel albino git, but at least I'm not a Hufflepuff!"

Harry couldn't help but laugh at that. Soon they were all laughing.

"I guess that's one point in your favor, Malfoy," Harry chortled.

"Yeah, I guess it is."

They lounged in the bath for a while, when Draco suddenly spoke up, "Well, I've got some Potions homework to finish up. I'll see you guys in class tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow!" Harry and Ron waved him good-bye.

Twenty minutes later, they had gotten a bit bored of messing around with the different bubbles and soaps.

"I'd better be going, too," Blaise said.

Ron and Harry both decided it was time they also left, and got out. They decided to head down to the Great Hall together.

"How do wizards celebrate Halloween anyway?" Harry asked Ron.

"Well, we typically dress up like Muggles and act like them during the day. They never even suspect we're doing it. Then we go home and lock our doors. You never know for certain if the person knocking at your door is a muggle or something else."

"That's funny, because muggles –" Harry was interrupted by the sight they were greeted with when they rounded the corner.

Someone in a black cloak was leaning over the body of Draco Malfoy, who was collapsed on the ground. The black cloaked figure looked up and saw them. She fixed them with a glowing red stare. Harry and Ron backed away as blood dripped from the girl's mouth onto the floor. She lunged at them, fangs beared. Harry lifted his wand and blasted her back. She crashed into a large earthenware vase, but was back on her feet a second later. She flew over them and rounded the corner.

Harry ran after her, Ron and Blaise's footsteps echoing his own. The figure dtopped at the end of the hall and turned to face them. She brandished a wand, swinging it in a complicated pattern. Bats flew forth from the wand tip, straight towards them. Ron lifted his wand and shouted, "Protego!"

The bats burst into black flames and fell to the ground as dust. Blaise threw a ball of fire at the vampire. She blocked it with her cloak, which turned into shrieking bats, fluttering away down the hall. They were certainly making enough noise. Why wasn't a teacher coming to investigate the noise? The vampire tossed a bottle of glowing teal potion, which exploded in mid-air, and sent balls of ice flying through the air. One struck a suit of armor beside Harry, freezing it in a wall of ice. Ron ducked one which froze the chandelier. Harry slashed with his wand, striking the vampire in the chest with a hammer of air. She flew down the hall, landing at the base of the stairs to the third floor.

She charged up them, panting hard, Harry and Blaise right on her heels and Ron trailing behind, wheezing. She grabbed at a door handle and pulled. It was locked. She turned to face the two of them. Blaise hit her with a belt of air, throwing her through the door with a crash. Harry watched as the three-headed dog lowered its head toward its prey. Harry heard a low tinkling sound. The dog's six ears perked up, and then settled onto its belly. Its heads came to rest on the ground. The vampire struggled up, and her hood slipped. Harry gasped in surprise. It was Luna!

"What the hell?" Harry said flatly.

Luna looked up at him, then lowered her head. Harry spotted something glinting on the ground. It was a locket. The tinkling music was coming from the locket. The picture inside was of Luna and her parents. He closed it. Abruptly, the dog blinked and its noses began sniffing again. Harry reopened the locket, and the dog went back to sleep.

"I'm sorry."

"What?" Harry asked shocked.

"I'm sorry. I know you must hate me now, but I'm sorry. You don't know what it's like, being bullied every day. Being told that your whole family's insane."

Tears glistened on her cheeks. Harry lifted her up by the arm.

"I didn't want to hurt anyone nice. I just thought, if I were strong enough, people would like me."

Harry didn't know what to say. He looked down at the locket in his hand. He held it out to her. She took it gently between her fingers.

Not looking at him, she whispered, "My dad gave me this when I was little. I never knew my mother. She died while studying ways to cure vampirism. This was hers. I – I'm sorry. I know I don't deserve to be forgiven."

Harry sighed and led her down the corridor, back the way they had come. Ron was catching his breath on the stairs when they got there.

"What'd I miss? Oh, hello, Luna. Did you see a half-pint vampire around here any—"

Harry kicked his ankle and frowned at him. Ron's eyebrows knitted in confusion, then he shrugged and nodded. The four of them went back downstairs and grabbed Malfoy, then brought him back to the bath. They stripped down and got back in the bath.

"Do you know any healing magic?" Harry asked Luna.

"No. But I can make the marks disappear."

She smoothed his skin with her hand and the tooth marks on his neck disappeared. "He should wake up in a few seconds."

Moments later, Draco blinked, then looked around.

"What happened?"

"You slipped and fell in the bath," Harry lied.

"Oh," Draco frowned. "That explains it. Well, now that I've had my dip, I'm leaving before your blood traitor attitude or weirdo thoughts seep into my skin."

He got out of the bath, changed, and left.

"Now, I have a few questions," Blaise said. "What was that big dog? It looked like Cerberus."

"We don't really know, but Ron and me, and a couple other students have seen it. We think it's guarding something."

"What would they need to guard? The answer keys to the exams? Whatever it is, it would be just as safe, or maybe slightly less, in Gringotts."

Harry nodded his agreement. What indeed was the dog guarding?

Luna spoke up nervously, "Am I forgiven?"

Harry sighed, then thought for a minute, "Well, if we don't say anything, then I don't think the teachers will know it was us. But you must promise not to do that again."

"Yes, of course. I'm sorry."

"So, are we all caught up, then?" Ron asked. "Good. Can we go eat now?"

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet. Harry was just helping himself to some potatoes when he noticed that the teachers' table was empty, aside from Hagrid.

He turned to Seamus and asked, "Where are all the teachers at?"

"I don't know, but there was a lot of shouting and banging coming from the dungeons earlier," Seamus said through a mouthful of bread and schnozzberry jam.

Fred and George plopped into the spaces opposite Harry.

"Hey there, Harry!" one of them exclaimed.

"Guess what?" the other asked conspiratorily.

"What?"

"We just finished setting up a prank for the next one to open the front doors."

"Whoever opens them will get hit with a bucketful of squid."

"I hope we get Filch."

"I hope we get Snape."

"Yeah!"

"This is going to be hilarious!"

There was a loud shriek. Everyone in the hall turned to the doors. Quirrell burst into the Great Hall, tentacles streaming behind him as he ran down the main aisle, pulling at the purple squids which clung tightly to him. Fred and George were laughing loudly and snapping photos with a magic camera.

Harry clapped with everyone else.

Then, Quirrell stopped, and the squids let go of him, dropping to the floor. Across the hall, Professor Lovecraft lowered his wand. Quirrell kicked the tentacles off his feet and rushed back down the aisle, and out the hall past Professor Lovecraft, who then lifted his wand to his own throat.

His magically enhanced voice echoed through the hall, "Quiet down. Quiet down. I must ask you all to return to your common rooms immediately." He was met by angry shouts.

"Quiet! This evening, a troll broke into the castle. A few minutes ago, we managed to subdue him in the dungeons. However, we have yet to do a complete sweep of the castle. We have good reason to, because he wouldn't have been able to get in without help from a wizard. At this point, we believe he was let in by Sirius Black."


	9. Chapter 11: A Time and Place for Love

I do not own a pair of shoes with big X's on the sides, a Lamborghini Diablo, or Snafu-comics.

Chapter 11: Lavender's Spiel

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the windows upstairs defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots.

Despite all the hype about the troll and the destruction done to the second and third floors, the students were quickly diverted by a message that was left on the message boards in all the common rooms.

_Dear students,_

_To give you a chance to get out of the castle and stretch your legs, a trip to the nearby village of Hogsmeade will be permitted for any interested students, provided they receive written permission from their parent or guardian on November 6th. _

_With best Narf, Albus Dumbledore._

"Narf?" Ron muttered.

"Hogsmeade?" Harry wondered.

"Yeah, it's the village just outside the gates," Percy explained.

"What's so cool about it anyway?"

"Well," Fred and George each planted an elbow on one of Harry's shoulders.

"There's the Three Broomsticks."

"Zonko's Joke Shop."

"The Shrieking Shack."

"Honeyduke's chocolate shop."

"It's totally worth it."

"We only ever get to go two or three times a year."

"So take the opportunity."

"That's enough you two," Percy scolded, "You're giving me a headache."

"Aw!" the twins cried in stereo. "Don't you love your brothers?"

"Just cut it out!"

"Aw! Mr. Prefect is having a tantrum!"

Harry, Ron and Dean left the twins to battle it out with Percy, and headed down to breakfast.

The three of them took seats at the Gryffindor table. Everyone was talking excitedly about the visit to Hogsmeade and the last night's events. Ernie Macmillan came over just to chat about it with Neville.

"I bet the troll was just a diversion!" Ernie whispered.

"Why? Why would he even want to get in here?" Dean asked him smugly.

"Why would a psychotic killer come here? He wants to kill someone."

"Like who?"

"Well, who would one of You-Know-Who's followers want to kill?"

"Sorry," Harry interjected, "But who's You-Know-Who?"

"He's the dark lord of evil and destruction! He was the last great threat to the wizarding world!"

"And," Hermione seated herself beside them, "He was the one who killed your parents, and tried to kill you, Harry."

Harry felt a chill run through him. His parents had been _murdered_?

"Hey, that's right! That would explain it! He's come here to kill – Harry, are you alright?" Ernie asked, concerned.

"Well, I don't suppose you'd be alright if you just found out your parents were murdered years ago, would you?" he said drily.

Hermione gasped. "Oh! I'm sorry, Harry! I didn't—I thought you knew!"

Harry just looked down at his plate, prodding his eggs with a fork. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione stand up and walk away. Ernie, Dean, and Neville went on talking, carefully avoiding the subject of You-Know-Who.

Ron sat down next to Harry, saw his face and asked, "Who died?"

Dean kicked him under the table. Ron yelled, "Ouch!" Dean shook his head from side to side. About then, Hermione came back with Luna in tow.

"Here, do you remember Luna from earlier?"

"We've talked," Harry said solemnly.

"Right. Luna lost her mum a few years ago."

"Yeah, but she wasn't murdered. She died in an accident. I always thought my parents did, too. But they weren't. They—"

"Harry!" Ron said, annoyed, "You're boring me to death with your angst."

"What, you want me to make a pun about my parents, is that it?"

"No, it just gets so bloody depressing."

Harry sighed and sat down.

"Hey guys, guess what!"

Everyone turned to see Lavender standing behind them, holding a metal box with a fun word stamped on the outside. Harry tried not to laugh, pretending to choke on a bite of egg he hadn't taken.

"I'm collecting members for my new group!" Lavender cried happily, shaking the box.

"What group?" Harry asked, careful to keep his eyes on her face, lest they should wander slightly lower.

Ron, however, was doing a terrible job of pretending to be mesmerized by the metal box.

"It's called the Friends of Underprivileged Creatures and Minority Entities!"

"Entities," Ron repeated, still pretending to look at the box.

Hermione's mouth was hanging open about a decimeter.

Hermione whispered, scandalized, "Ronald! Keep your eyes—"

"Who wants to join?" Lavender asked enthusiastically.

Ron's hand shot up. "Me!"

Harry felt a little sorry for Ron, "Me, too."

At least Ron wouldn't be alone.

"I'm in!" Hermione exclaimed, determined to keep an eye on Ron.

"And me," Neville said nervously.

"Okay," Luna nodded.

"Why not," Dean sighed.

Ernie was having difficulty keeping his eyes on her face as well, "That sounds… fun."

Seamus showed up out of nowhere. He looked at the acronym written on the box. "Whatever it is, I'm in."

"Great! That makes us twelve then!" Lavender cried excitedly, jumping up and down.

"Who else did you manage to trick into going along with this?" Harry asked.

"Oh, Terry Boot, Susan Bones, and Justin Finch-Fletchley!"

"Great!" Harry smacked himself in the forehead, already regretting his hasty decision.

"I've planned for the first meeting to be in the three broomsticks in Hogsmeade at four. Make sure you get your permission slip signed!"

Harry let out a sigh of relief. He had a way out! There was absolutely no chance that Uncle Vernon would let him go to Hogsmeade, if that meant that he might enjoy himself. He finished his breakfast in relative peace and left for his first class.

As he exited the Great Hall, Fred and George grabbed him and pulled him into a nearby corridor.

"What are you idiots doing?" he cried, trying to free himself.

"Is that any way to address the twins who got you a date with a certain fifth-year fox?"

"You—How?"

"Suddenly interested, are we?" Fred, Harry thought, said.

"Let's just say that she owed us a favor," George, maybe, said, "and she agreed to meet you in Madam Puddifoot's tea shop."

"You're not joking, are you?" Harry asked desperately.

"Nope, but this is a non-refundable deal. And you'll owe us one, got it?"

"Got it!" Harry nodded. "When am I supposed to meet her?"

"At about three o'clock. Make sure you get your permission slip signed.

"Okay that's great, I—D*** it!"

"Something wrong?" Fred, as his name may have been, asked.

"Two things. First, my stupid uncle will never sign my permission slip. Second, if I do get it signed, somehow, I'll have to go to Lavender's stupid minority meeting!"

"A minority meeting?" George, wherefore he was named so, we may never know, asked curiously.

"Yeah, it's called – (censored)"

Fred and George began to laugh furiously.

"That's brilliant!" one twin cried.

"Lavender's brains _are_ her second best trait!" his/her sibling cried.

"Just for that," the twin wiped a tear from their eye, "we have something for you."

"A long time ago, we decided to give this to our little bro, but we think that, as a young pervert, you are more deserving to follow in our footsteps."

"Harry, this is what we like to call the Marauder's Map."

The twin pulled an old piece of parchment paper from a breast pocket, unfolded it, tapped it with his/her wand, and said, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

And at once, thin ink lines began to spread like a spider's web from the point the twin's wand had touched. They joined each other, they crisscrossed, they fanned into every corner of the parchment; then words began to blossom across the top, great, curly green words, that proclaimed:

Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs

Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers

are Proud to present

The Marauder's Map

It was a map showing every detail of the Hogwarts castle and grounds. But the truly remarkable thing were the tiny ink dots moving around it, each labeled with a name in miniscule writing. He noticed a lot of passages he didn't know existed. Some of them led off the map, apparently in the direction of –"

"Hogsmeade," the twin pointed at one of the hidden passages. "There are a couple leading out of Hogwarts, but we've only ever used this one. It comes out in the basement of Honeydukes. Take notice of this passage."

The twin pointed to a passage on the fourth floor. "This runs right by the baths. There are peepholes, too."

"Sweet," Harry grinned, his dirty mind buzzing.

"Just check to make sure Hannah Abbott's not in there when you go."

"Why?"

"You've seen her?"

"I follow. Thanks, Fred, George. I definitely owe you one, err, two."

"Oh, we almost forgot, when you're done using it, tap it with your wand and say 'mischief managed!' and it should go blank."

Harry felt exhilarated as he went to his first class. A trip to Hogsmeade for a date with Cho… And no meeting with Lavender. He was so happy, he felt like weeping.

"You look Happy Harry, did Lavender drop her quill?" Seamus asked Harry.

"No, better. I'm going on a date with Cho."

"Really? Are you sure you want to do that?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I want to?"

"Her dad's a fox deity, Justin told me a couple weeks ago."

"A couple weeks a— wait a minute. Why's that a turn-off?"

"Well, I mean, she's not entirely human. It's a bit odd. Unless you're into that sort of thing," Seamus shrugged.

"She's really pretty, smart, and –" Harry said, thinking it over.

"Shut up, Potter," Snape snapped. "Open your books to page seven hundred and thirteen."

The students opened their books to page seven hundred and thirteen.

"Today, class, we will be learning about attraction potions. These potions cause anyone who looks at the user to fall deeply in love with them. For five or six minutes. Be aware that the potion only affects those who swing toward liking your gender. Professor Dumbledore learned that the hard way."

Malfoy raised his hand, "What happened, Professor?"

Snape smiled, "He was trying to woo the Queen - at a gay pride parade."

Malfoy frowned, "I thought the old geezer was a bit set that way himself?"

Snape shook his head, "A common misconception. And to cap it all, he didn't even manage to gain the Queen's affections."

The Slytherins laughed.

"Now, this potion is made by mixing sixty-six four leaf clovers, a strand of unicorn pubic hair, and a pint of lager. We have just enough unicorn hair and four leaf clovers for all of you. I'll be collecting four Knuts for each pint of lager you use. Have your money ready. If you don't have any with you, then you have five minutes to collect it."

Fortunately for Harry, he kept a few coins on him at all times, but poor Neville had to run to Gryffindor Tower and back. Harry moved over to sit with his partner, and bought his lager off Snape as he passed the desk. Ten minutes into class, Neville ran into the room and shut the door behind him. He smelled like Gorgonzola and had something green and furry covering him from head to toe.

Neville held out four Knuts to Snape.

"You're late, you smell worse than usual, and you're tracking Thestral droppings," Snape sniffed, then winced, wishing he hadn't, "Fifty points from Gryffindor and detention for the rest of the week."

Harry poured the crushed four leaf clovers into the cauldron and Blaise poured in the congealed lager and hair. It was turning a vibrant red. Pansy had dumped a half a gallon of bleach in Hermione's cauldron when she wasn't paying attention, and there was a human heart floating in the pink liquid. Seamus and Dean had once again made Crabbe and Goyle sabotage each other, growing celery in one cauldron, and filling the other with solid granite. Malfoy's cauldron blew up this time, intestines spewing everywhere.

"Weasley! Seventy points from Gryffindor! If Malfoy screws up again, I'll know it was your fault, and you'll know what four straight weeks of detention feels like!" Snape roared.

Blaise gave the potion one final stir, then dipped a flask into the cauldron. Harry followed suit. Snape barely looked up from his copy of Makeout Paradise.

"Well done, Blaise, twenty points for Slytherin. Get out of here, Potter."

Harry didn't need telling twice. He picked up his bag, and, after filling another flask with potion, left the room.

Finally, the morning of the Hogsmeade trip arrived. Harry got out of bed and went downstairs to breakfast. The other eleven were sitting at the Gryffindor table, because it had more room than the Hufflepuff table. Lavender was talking enthusiastically to the other members, most of whom looked like they wished they had stayed in bed.

" –And that's why minorities should have just as much, if not more power than majorities. Their lack of support should be made up for by everyone else doing what they say!" Lavender smiled.

Ron was tapping his fork to his plate and raising it to his mouth, apparently unaware that it had no food on it.

"Ronald," Hermione glared at him. "What are you doing?"

"I'm admiring Lavender's necklace," Ron said in a far-off voice.

"She's not wearing a necklace," her face curled into a furious grimace.

"I'm imagining her wearing a pretty necklace."

"And what else?"

"Nothing."

Hermione jumped up, "He admitted it! Did you hear what he said, Lavender?"

"Whatever it was, I'm flattered. Now, do any of you know why the life of one tree is worth more than a small community?"

"Something to do with the number of rings," Seamus mumbled, half asleep.

"I'm sorry, Lavender, but I can't go to the meeting, my uncle hates me and won't sign my permission slip," Harry pretended to be sad.

"Oh, that's too bad. Next time, then, okay?" Lavender smiled.

Harry breathed out and sat down next to Dean. Dean jumped a little, banging his knee on the table. Neville's plasma tea tipped over and spilled on his lap. Neville tried to stand up and fell backwards over the bench. He ran out of the hall, pursued by weak laughter.

Harry tapped the hump of the one-eyed witch and said, "_Dissendium_. The hell, that's not latin! Or, wait, is it?"

He reached for his dictionary, stopped, shook his head, and pulled himself into the hole which had opened in the witch's back. After sliding down a stone slope, he crawled through a narrow earthen passage for about three kilometers. He wished he'd paid just a bit more attention at his previous school, which had been a military school. Finally, he came to the end of the tunnel. He ascended some stone stairs and pushed up on a wooden trapdoor. He was in the basement of Honeydukes.

He could smell the sweets upstairs. He snuck up the wooden stairs in the corner and found himself in a room just behind the counter. Thinking hastily of a way to sneak in without being noticed, he was saved by Draco Malfoy. Draco casually walked by a lollypop stand, casually slipping one into his pocket. An alarm sounded. Harry almost jumped, and felt a pit growing in his stomach. They knew he was there.

They didn't. They did shake down Draco, though. While the people in the shop were thus entertained, entertained meaning here, distracted, Harry slipped out from behind the counter and joined the people laughing and pointing at Malfoy. He casually broke away and slipped across the street to the Three Broomsticks.

Inside, he joined Seamus, Dean, and Ron at a table.

"Harry! We thought you couldn't get your permission slip signed!" Seamus exclaimed, surprised.

"Yeah, but Dumbledore was very agreeable about the whole thing," Harry lied.

Dean just shook his head and took a sip from his mug.

Harry waved his hand for the barmaid, who was wearing a very revealing outfit and looked to be about seventy, "Excuse me, could I get a drink!"

"What would you like, young sir."

"I'll have what they're having."

"All right, that'll be two Knuts."

Harry tossed her the coins and turned back to his friends.

Justin had walked over. "Hi, Harry! I thought you couldn't get your permission slip signed. Huh, guess I was mistaken. Anyway, I was just in Honeydukes, and you'll never guess what happened."

"Malfoy got caught stuffing his pockets," Harry grinned.

"Hey!" now Justin looked miffed, "I wanted to say that!"

"So say it."

"Malfoy got caught stuffing his pockets! Darn! Somehow, it just doesn't feel the same."

"My apologies," Harry bowed his head slightly. "Hey, Justin, do you know where Madam Puddifoot's is?"

"Yes, but you wouldn't want to go there."

"Why not?" Dean asked.

"I've heard stories."

"We know," Harry smirked.

"What?" Justin's brow furrowed.

"We know you've heard stories."

"Oh, right. Well, I've heard that the place is really frilly and crap. It's sickeningly cutesy and lovey-dovey."

"Really."

"Yes."

"So where is it?"

"I've heard that it's just two doors down."

"Thank you very much," Harry bowed his head again.

After whittling away the time until three, chatting and drinking butterbeer, Harry set out for Madam Puddifoot's shop. There it was, two doors down. Justin hadn't been kidding. It looked _horrible._ Harry pushed open the oak door and entered a world of horror. There was more ribbon and lace here than there was in any one retirement home. Seated in a booth along one of the walls was Cho, her black hair tied back in a ponytail, reading _The Magical World of Stocks and Bonds_ by Gilderoy Lockheart. She looked up as he entered and smiled.

"Hi," Harry said, feeling awkward.

"Hi," she said, also feeling awkward.

The waitress, who was wearing a string bikini, strolled over, "Is there anything I can get for you?"

Harry blushed, "Uh, just tea, thank you."

Cho picked up a menu and looked through it. "Could I please get the ice latte with cherry?"

"Of course, I'll be right back."

She swayed away. Harry felt like his face was on fire.

"I have to ask, Cho, what kind of tea shop is this?"

"A very good one," she winked.

Harry wasn't sure what to make of that. The waitress came back and set a pair of cups on the table. Harry swirled his with the spoon, unsure of what to say. Cho blew on hers then lowered it to her lap, couching it in her hands.

"So, Harry, Fred and George tell me that you're the boy who lived."

"Yes, yes I am. I guess."

"You guess?" she quirked an eyebrow.

"I didn't even know that my parents had been murdered until just a few days ago."

"Oh, Harry."

"I'm fine."

"Great, because I was about to scold you for trying to sympathize your way up my skirt."

Harry blinked. "What?"

"A lot of guys have tried that. It doesn't work."

Harry thought about that for a moment as Cho took a sip of her tea. He unconsciously raised his own glass to his lips and almost yelped when the hot tea touched his tongue.

"You have to blow on it a little," Cho hinted.

Harry nodded and blew on it.

"So you're half fox?" he asked conversationally.

Cho spilled her latte down her front.

"D*** it!" she swore, wiping at her shirtfront.

One of the waitresses came over. "Let me help, miss."

She pulled Cho's shirt off and walked to the back room with it.

"D***!" Cho swore louder. "They _always_ find an excuse to do that! At least this time it was only my top."

Harry blushed and looked away. One of the waitresses came by with a promotional shirt. Cho quickly pulled it on.

"So," Harry said, "this happens often?"

"Practically every time anyone comes here. They wash your clothes in the back for you, but then you have to stay and buy more tea. It's all a sales ploy."

"You sure do know how to run a business."

"Why thank you, I— Oh, would you look at that! You complimented me and I fell right into it. You're better than I guessed. How did you know I was half-fox?"

"Justin told me."  
>"Curse him! Ah, well. Nothing to be done about it now. Harry, you're really cute and all, but I've got a rule."<p>

"What rule," Harry asked, confused.

"No f****** first years. Poetic, isn't it?"

"Very."

Then, Blaise walked in. Cho's eyes lit up.

"Ooh, excuse me Harry, I'm going to see if I can break a rule," she whispered and scurried off toward Blaise.

Harry poked his potato and sighed.

Ron elbowed him, "Did she do it with you?"

"No. What gave you that idea?" Harry asked.

"Justin heard her comment on someone being very good."

"That'd be Blaise."

"That wanker!" Ron said furiously.

"Ron, you better watch your language. The FCC is starting to notice us."

"Oh, come on! No one in the U.S. even knows what that word really means, and no one in the U.K. is _ever_ going to read this," Ron muttered.  
>"I wouldn't be so sure."<p>

"This from the guy who couldn't get with Cho Chang."

"You know how attractive Blaise is! I didn't stand a bloody chance. Besides, I didn't want to, anyway."

"Who was it that said we should watch our language?"

"Hermione, probably," Harry muttered.

"Cheer up, Harry!" Seamus said enthusiastically. "The first Quidditch match of the year is coming up! You've got that to look forward to!"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"And I might be able to get you together with my sister over winter break," Seamus let it hang.

"I already said that I didn't want _that_," Harry said, slightly annoyed.

"What's wrong with my sister?"

"Nothing, I just don't want to get in a relationship, that's all."

"The way we've been talking," Ron mused, "You'd think that our characters were in their late teens instead of their early twenties."

"No," Harry corrected him, "Our characters are in their early teens, our actors are in their early twenties."

"Actors, characters, same thing," Ron shrugged.

"So, you ask Hermione out?" Harry asked.

"Nope. She's too naggy. I tried to ask Lavender out, but I didn't get the chance. That girl never shuts her mouth, did you know?"

Harry smiled, "I reckon that if she didn't have such impressive – err – tracts of land, you wouldn't be interested at all."

"Two points."

Ron kicked the table. Neville, who had been holding his tea for safety, was startled by the thud and spilled it on Dean's lap. Dean had been ladling hot gravy onto his potatoes and beef, and spilled the pot on Neville's lap. Neville scrambled for the door and ran. Hardly anyone noticed.

Harry nodded, "Two points."

Hermione glared at Ron from down the table. Ron was helping Dean clean up the spilled tea. Luckily, Neville had become so paranoid, he had started drinking his tea cold. Luna sat down next to Hermione.

"Hi, Luna," Hermione smiled at her.

"Hello, Hermione," Luna replied, "There are Nargles circling your head."

She pulled out a jar, seemingly from nowhere and swooshed it over Hermione's head, then screwed a cap tightly over it.

"Got them," she said, smiling as she stowed the jar away in her bag.

"Err, thanks, Luna," Hermione said uncertainly.

"I see that you're trying to catch that red-head's eye," Luna smiled dreamily.

"What? No, no I'm not!"

"Don't be shy. Where's the shame in saying he's cute?"

"The shame?" Hermione mouthed.

"You should ask him out. He's been eyeing that cow over there," she pointed at Lavender.

"I- I- No. And you really shouldn't call Lavender a cow, it's not nice."

"You're just saying that because you're only a C cup."

Hermione gagged on her milk.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, really. I'm only an A cup, and I look just—"

Hermione slapped a hand to Luna's mouth, "Quiet down, will you? People are _looking_!"

"I don't see what you're upset about. It doesn't matter if they can hear, it's not anything important."

"No, but it's _private_!" Hermione whispered urgently.

"Oh, I see now, you're embarrassed because of the subject. Okay, I see now."

Hermione sighed, "So, how'd Harry do?"

"Cho did seem to like him a little, but Blaise came and stole her."

Hermione thought about that.

"Susan says that you need a man."

Hermione jumped. "What?"

"You're always buried in a book. You never even talk to guys unless you're scolding them, Hermione."

"Luna," Hermione sighed, "I don't have time for men. School is more important."

"If that's your choice," Luna shrugged, "Then there's nothing more I can say. Except that Ron has a big—"

"Luna! How do you—Never mind, I don't want to know."

Luna giggled and buried her face in a copy of the Quibbler.


	10. Special: 50 Funny Incidents

I do not own the concept of the running gag, Quodpot, or the Dallas Cowboys.

Special: Neville Gets Hurt

As a special thank you to my readers, I've put together a special chapter about Neville getting hurt. This has absolutely nothing to do with the plot. This is here only because I like to write about Neville getting injured.

1. Neville is sitting down to breakfast. Errol, the Weasley family owl plows into the tea pot, spilling it on Neville's lap. Neville cries out in pain.

2. Neville is in Herbology and is tending a mandrake. He forgot where he put his earmuffs and uses earplugs instead. He can't get them out, and spends the whole day unable to hear anything.

3. Neville takes too large a bite of sausage and chokes. Dean punches him in the gut, dislodging the sausage. Neville vomits.

4. Neville is on the astronomy tower when he spots his Remembrall in the gutter. He stretches out an arm to grab it. He slips, falls, slides down the side of the roof, and his robe catches on a spike. He hangs there all night. Professor West dislodges him with a broom the next morning, and he falls the last twenty feet to the next tier of roofs.

5. Neville slips on a banana peel and falls on his arse.

6. Neville trips and falls down the stairs in the entrance hall.

7. Neville makes an accidentally flirtatious comment to Pavarti Patil. She knees him in the groin.

8. Neville encounters a boggart in the potion room. It turns into Snape. Neville imagines Snape dressed in his grandmother's clothes and shouts "_Riddikulus!"_ The boggart turns into Snape wearing his grandmother's clothes. The real Snape docks Neville five hundred points.

9. Neville finds a cage sitting in the middle of the Care of Magical Creatures classroom. No one else is around. The cage seems to be empty, aside from some old blue blankets. He opens the cage. A swarm of Cornish Pixies fly out of the sheets, carry him out the window and drop him.

10. Neville sees a pair of cupcakes sitting on the banister in the entrance hall. He walks up the stairs, eating one. At the top, the sleep potion in the cupcake takes effect, and he falls backwards down the steps.

11. Draco is throwing chalk at the other students. Neville gets hit in the back of the head with a piece. He turns and throws the chalk at Draco, misses, and hits Snape. Snape throws the chalkboard at Neville.

12. Neville is eating lunch. Ron leans back on the bench and Neville falls backwards, cracking his head on the Ravenclaw bench.

13. Neville is in the library looking at a book. He stubs his toe and cries out. Madam Pince takes the book and slams it shut on his nose.

14. Neville is kicking rocks when one goes high and hits Crabbe's arm. Neville turns to run, trips over the railing and falls off the balcony. Crabbe never notices and goes on eating his ham sandwich.

15. Neville is juggling cabbages. Hagrid drops his barrel full of flesh-eating slugs. The slugs, attracted to the cabbages, swarm over Neville.

16. Neville is collecting water from a well when a grindylow hitches a ride in the bucket. It attempts to strangle him. Neville struggles with it and falls into the well.

17. Neville is sitting in the common room when a coal leaps out of the fire and lands in his lap. He brushes it off quickly. It lands on, and incinerates, his recently completed homework.

18. Neville is locked out of the common room and sleeping in the hall when the Bloody Baron floats by. Neville screams and runs away. He trips over a shrub and tumbles down the stairs.

19. Neville is in transfiguration. Seamus is attempting to turn a log into a salamander. He misses and sets Neville on fire.

20. Neville is helping the house elves carry meat to the larder. They forget about him and he is accidentally locked in. Four hours later, Snape retrieves a sausage from the larder. Two hours later, Snape tells Filch that Neville is locked in the larder. Three hours later, Filch tells McGonagall that Neville is locked in the larder. An hour later, McGonagall tells Zacharias Smith to get Neville out of the larder. Zacharias forgets. A house elf goes into the larder to get some roast beef an hour later, finds Neville, and carries him out.

21. Neville is buying chocolate in Honeydukes and buys an acid pop. He gives it a lick. It melts through his tongue. Neville has an allergic reaction, and what's left of his tongue swells up.

22. Neville is taking notes in History of Magic when his quill tip breaks. He swaps it out and accidentally breaks the nib on his second quill. He pulls out a third quill. This one snaps in half when he picks it up.

23. Neville is being fitted for robes in Madam Malkins when Draco Malfoy walks in. He swaps out the material in the request for hot pink fabric with lace. Neville is embarrassed when he receives his new robes.

24. Neville drops his toad Trevor and stoops to pick him up. He cricks his back and can't stand back up. Neville stumbles around a corner after Trevor and collides with the back of Lavender Brown's knees. She sees him bent over under her skirts and kicks him in the face.

25. Neville throws a rock. He accidentally hits the window in the Transfiguration room. Professor McGonagall leans out the window and turns him into a donkey.

26. Neville is in Defense Against the Dark Arts when Professor Quirrell has one of his incidents.

27. Dumbledore is putting nail polish on his toenails. Neville has agreed to help clean Fawkes. He pulls a loose feather on Fawkes' tail and the phoenix bursts into flame. Neville's robes catch fire and he runs around the room tripping over kooky instruments.

28. Neville tries to do a jig, offends a leprechaun and finds himself stuffed into a chamber pot.

29. Neville is writing answers on a test, saying the words under his breath as he writes them. He writes _confringo_, and his back pocket, where he had stowed his wand, ignites. Not only that, but the correct answer was _aquamenti_ and he failed the test.

30. Neville is participating in a spelling bee with fourth graders and misspells the word _gorblimey!_

31. Neville is reading _The Catcher in the Rye_ and is assaulted by psychotic censors.

32. Neville is drinking butterbeer at a bar when he spots a pretty girl with pale skin and dark hair. She is petting a vampire bat and drinking from a glass full of a red liquid. Neville walks over to talk to her and is attacked by a giant spider. Didn't see that one coming, did you?

33. Neville is buying books at Flourish and Blotts when a swarm of Gilderoy Lockheart fans trample him.

34. Neville is peeling an orange when the he cuts his finger with the peeler. Thestrals, attracted by the scent of blood, soar down out of the sky and trample him.

35. Neville has decided to go with Bill Weasley for Job Experience day. They are investigating an ancient Mayan temple. Neville finds a golden idol and picks it up. The ceiling begins to collapse. Neville and Bill flee from falling rocks, poison darts, spike pits, and giant, rolling boulders. They escape the temple, but Neville gets mauled by a black leopard.

36. Neville is writing a Harry Potter parody and doesn't admit that the copyright belongs to J.K. Rowling. She takes him to court and successfully sues him for half a million dollars.

37. Neville is eating some chips when Goyle spots him and roars. Neville drops the chips and runs. Goyle bends over and begins eating the chips. Neville is panting for breath when McGonagall grabs him and drags him off to Physical Education.

38. Neville is attending a Smashmouth concert and gets crushed when the lead guitarist jumps off the stage.

39. Neville drops a Knut off the Eiffel Tower. It lands in a blind beggar's coffee mug. An alien drops a manhole cover out of their flying saucer. It hits Neville, knocking him unconscious. It keeps falling and lands on the blind beggar. His buddy, the deaf beggar shoots the UFO with an RPG. Everyone in France LOL.

40. Neville is brushing his teeth and drops the floss in the toilet. He swaps his floss for Dean's. Seamus sees this and tells Dean. Dean puts a drunken koala in Neville's bed. Neville doesn't notice until about 4 AM.

41. Neville is watching the Quidditch match. Quirrell falls forward out of his seat and knocks Neville over. Neville spills his hot cocoa on his robes. A flock of passing seagulls swoop down and begin to peck Neville.

42. Neville is playing cribbage with Ernie MacMillan. Ernie loses and Neville stands up to cheer. He bangs his head on a bookshelf. The shelf breaks and the heavy books sitting on it fall on Neville. Neville's great expectations are crushed by the Complete Works of Shakespeare.

43. Neville is eating a roast badger when French officers arrive to arrest him for consuming a citizen of France.

44. Neville is drinking plasma tea when Luna sits down on his lap and takes his tea. She drains the cup, then has a quick nip from Neville's neck.

45. Neville is playing the fiddle when a passing cuckoo, offended by his music attacks him.

46. Neville is helping Hagrid take care of some Blast-Ended Skrewts. Hagrid leaves Neville in charge while he visits the outhouse. Neville does what he does best and in short order Hagrid's hut is on fire and one of the Skrewts has him halfway into its mouth.

47. Luna is sitting on the roof, petting thestrals. She decides to go to the library. First, she cleans up the mess the Thestrals made and dumps the bucket full of droppings out the window. It lands in the courtyard below, just as Neville is rushing to Gryffindor Tower. He doesn't smell very nice in Potions.

48. Neville, Draco, and Theodore Nott are on the roof for Astronomy class. It's stormy and lightning is striking everywhere. Everyone else has headed back in. Malfoy is munching popcorn under an umbrella held by Nott. Neville is looking through a telescope at the small patch of sky that can be seen. Lightning strikes the umbrella, electrocuting Nott. Neville is unharmed.

49. Neville, horrified at what has happened to Nott goes over to help. Malfoy and Nott stumble down through the trapdoor. They close it behind them. Neville is locked outside in the rain all night.

50. Neville is sitting in Potions class. He does something. Something both disastrous and hilarious happens.


	11. Chapter 12: I Ate What?

I do not own Snapple, the Mars candy company, or the rights to this series.

Chapter 12: A Few Good Chasers

The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry would be playing his first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, they would move up to second place in the house championship.

Hardly anyone had seen Harry play because his mates had been the only ones to bother to walk down to the Quidditch field during practice. Despite this, random people would comment on his flying, and Harry didn't know which was worse – people telling him he'd be brilliant or people telling him they'd be running around underneath him holding a mattress.

It was really lucky that Harry now had so many friends. He didn't know how he'd have gotten through all his homework without other people giving him the answers. Susan had also lent him _Quidditch Through the Ages_, which turned out to be a very interesting read.

Harry learned that there were seven hundred and thirteen ways of committing a Quidditch foul and that all of them had happened during a World Cup match in 1473; that Seekers were usually the smallest and fastest players, and that the most serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to them; that although people rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert.

That morning, as they were sitting at breakfast, Harry saw Snape limping up to the table. After he was done with breakfast, he left the Great Hall and waited in a nearby brooms cupboard. Snape and filched walked by, talking.

Harry strained to hear what they were saying. "Blasted thing, how are you supposed to keep your eye on all three heads at once?"

Snape and Filch walked up the stairs and around the corner. Harry wondered for a minute what kind of animal could have three heads. Whatever he came up with, it made him laugh.

The morning of the Quidditch match dawned bright and cold. The Great hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.

"You've got to eat some breakfast."

"I don't want anything."

"Just a bit of toast or a spot of tea," wheedled Hermione.

"I'm not hungry."

Harry felt terrible. In an hour's time he'd be walking onto the field.

"Harry, you need your strength," said Seamus. "Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team."

"Seamus is right," Ron agreed. "But if you're not going to eat that sausage, I'd be happy to take it off your hands."

"Thanks guys," Harry replied sarcastically, watching Luna dump half a jar of sugar in her plasma tea.

Time elapse-

By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes.

Seamus, Dean, Ron, Neville, Hermione, Luna, and Susan were up in the top row. They were holding up a large banner they had made as a surprise. It said Potter for Prime Minister, and Dean, the West Ham fan who was good at drawing, had done a large Gryffindor lion underneath. Then Hermione had done a tricky little charm so that the paint flashed different colors.

Meanwhile, in the locker room, Harry and the rest of the team were changing into their scarlet Quidditch robes (Slytherin would be playing in green).

Wood cleared his throat for silence.

"Okay, men," he said.

"And women," said Chaser Angelina Johnson.

"And women," Wood agreed. "This is it."

"The big one," said Fred Weasley.

"The one we've all been waiting for," said George.

"We know Oliver's speech by heart," Fred told Harry, "we were on the team last year."

"Shut up, you two," said Wood. "This is the best team Gryffindor's had in years. We're going to win. I know it."

He glared at them as if to say, "Or else."

"Right. It's time. Good luck, all of you."

Harry followed Fred and George out of the locker room and, hoping his knees weren't going to give way, walked onto the field to loud cheers.

Professor West was refereeing. He stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand.

"NOW, I WANT A NICE, ENTERTAINING GAME, ALL OF YOU," he shouted, once they were all gathered around her. Harry noticed that he seemed to be speaking particularly to the beaters on both teams. Harry noted Fred and George's manic grins. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the fluttering banner high above, flashing Potter for Prime Minister over the crowd. He felt braver.

"MOUNT YOUR BROOMS, MAGGOTS!"

Harry clambered onto his Nimbus Two Thousand.

Professor West played a few short notes on his plastic whistle.

Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor – I'm banging that –"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Captain Wood's, last year only a reserve – back to Johnson and – no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes – Flint flying like a homo pixie up there –"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry – he's going to sc- no, stopped by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle – that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, Wood's ex-girlfriend, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and – OUCH – that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger – Quaffle taken by the Slytherins – that's Adrian Pucey speeding off towards the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger – sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which – nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes – she's really flying – ye gods, she's beautiful – the goal posts are ahead – come on, now, Angelina – Keeper Bletchley dives – misses – GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins.

"Jordan…"

"And Professor West is checking the Slytherin Keeper for injuries. Nothing serious, but hopefully a concussion. Unlikely to be a problem with a skull as thick as his is."

"JORDAN!"

"It was a fairly short fall, let's hope he's all right," Jordan mumbled.

"Budge up there, move along."

"Hagrid!"

Ron and Dean squeezed together to give Hagrid enough space to join them.

"Bin watchin' from me hut," said Hagrid, patting a large pair of Binoculars around his neck, "But it isn't the same as bein' in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"

"Nope," said Seamus. "Harry hasn't had much to do yet."

"Kept outta trouble, though, that's somethin'," said Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering skyward at the speck that was Harry.

Way up above them, Harry was gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the Snitch. This was part of his and Wood's game plan.

"Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch," Wood had said. "We don't want you attacked before you have to be."

When Angelina had scored, Harry had done a couple of loop-the-loops to let off his feelings. Now he was back to staring around for the Snitch. Once he caught sight of a flash of gold, but it was just a reflection from one of the Weasleys' wristwatches, and once a Bludger decided to come pelting his way, more like a cannonball than anything, but Harry dodged it and Fred Weasley, or maybe George, came chasing after it.

"All right there, Harry?" he had time to yell, as he beat the Bludger furiously toward Marcus Flint.

"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the – wait a moment – did Chaser Spinnet just lose her pants?"

Indeed she had. As Flint had sped past her, a splinter on his broomstick had caught on her pants and ripped them off. The fact that she was wearing a skirt made this particularly interesting to spectators with binoculars.

Ron snatched the binoculars from Hagrid and, after scanning the sky for a few seconds, shouted, "They're blue and lacey!"

As he began looking for Alicia, Hermione snatched the binoculars from his grip and looked toward Pucey.

She had spotted the same thing as Pucey; the Golden Snitch was flying around his head tauntingly. He gasped and dropped the Quaffle.

Harry saw it, too. In a great rush of excitement he dove downward after the streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it, too. Neck and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch – all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were doing as they hung in midair to watch.

Harry was faster than Higgs – he could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead – he put on an extra spurt of speed –

WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below – Marcus Flint had blocked Harry on purpose, and Harry's broom had spun off course, Harry holding on for dear life.

"Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors.

Professor West whispered conspiratorily with Flint, laughed, and passed him a can of spray paint. But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.

Down in the stands, Dean Thomas was yelling, "Send him off, ref! Red card!"

"Shut up, Dean!" Ron yelled.

"Why? It's not because I'm black, is it?"

"Of course not, you idiot! In Quidditch, getting a red card means you stay in the game!" Ron said, exasperated.

"Then what happens if you get a green card?"

"A green card kicks you out of the game. A blue card is a penalty for the other team."

"What about a yellow card?"

Ron shrugged, "What on Earth would we need a yellow card for?"

Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides.

"So – after that b****** Flint –"

"Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall in her Scottish accent.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul, that d******* had the nerve –"

"_Jordan, I'm warning you_ –"

"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, hand on her skirt, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."

It was as Harry dodged another Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past his head, that it happened. His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, he thought he going to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees. He'd never felt anything like that.

It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harry tried to turn back toward the Gryffindor goal posts – he had half a mind to ask Wood to call time-out – and then he realized that his broom was completely out of his control. He couldn't turn it. He couldn't direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him.

Lee was still commentating.

"Slytherin in possession – Flint with the Quaffle – passes Spinnet – passes Bell – hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his bloody nose – only joking, Professor – Slytherins score – oh s***…"

The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed that Harry's broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.

"Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing," Hagrid mumbled. He stared through his binoculars. "If I didn't know better, and I don't, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom… but only dark magic could do that…."

Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then three of the houses gasped. Slytherins were throwing rocks and Dragongouts were sort of slobbering. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.

"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?" Seamus whispered.

"Can't have," Hagrid said, his voice shaking. "Can't nothing – unless… Sirius Black!" he exclaimed, turning and running for the stairs.

The others rushed after him, but Hermione stopped them, "Wait!"

She picked up the binoculars and pointed them across the stadium. At Snape. His mouth was moving perpetually.

"Snape's jinxing the broom!" She whispered excitedly.

"So?" Ron asked. "What are you going to bloody do about it?"

"I'm going to stop Snape. Wait here."

Ron watched disinterestedly as Hermione scurried across the field unnoticed. This was because Harry's broom had redoubled its efforts to throw him off, shaking and spinning, jerking from side to side. Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and scored twice unnoticed before Wood could get back to the goal.

"Come on, Hermione," Susan whispered desperately.

"Look, there she is!" Dean exclaimed, pointing.

Dean rushed to the front row to look. Seamus jumped up, knocking Professor Quirrell over in his hurry to join Dean. Professor Quirrell fell over, bumping Neville and making him spill his hot cocoa. As Neville and Professor Quirrell were swarmed by gulls, Hermione fought her way to Snape through excited Slytherins. As she passed Draco, she elbowed him in the back of the head on purpose. Reaching Snape, she crouched down, pulled out her wand and whispered, "Fryer Fire Frapparisque!" Bright red flames shot onto the hem of Snape's robes.

It took perhaps ten seconds for Snape to realize that he was on fire. A sudden yelp told her she had done her job. She scrambled hastily back along the row, elbowing Draco in the head again – Snape would never know what had happened. Draco spun around a second later and grabbed Theodore Nott by the front of his robe. Crabbe and Goyle stood up and each grabbed one of his arms. As the other Slytherins laughed, the three drug Theodore off.

Up in the air, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back onto his broom. The Slytherins groaned.

"Neville, get out of my way!" Seamus shouted, shoving Neville off him, "Yes, go Harry!"

"The Snitch, the Snitch!" Luna was shouting, pointing at the ground below.

Harry dropped into a dive, streaking toward the ground. Higgs followed him, trying to catch up. He pulled up alongside Harry, then seeing the approaching ground, decided to pull up. He turned and watched as Harry pulled up sharply, clapping a hand to his mouth, gagging. Then he collided with the Gryffindor goalposts and knocked himself out.

Harry dropped to the ground, landing on all fours – coughed – and something gold fell into his hand.

"I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion.

"He didn't _catch_ it, he nearly _swallowed_ it," Flint was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference – Harry hadn't broken any of the nine hundred-some rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the results – Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty. Harry heard none of this, though. He was being made a cup of hard butterbeer back in the common room, his teammates and friends all around him.

"That was brilliant!" Wood shouted, clapping him on the back. "You must be the first Seeker to ever try to _eat_ the Snitch!"

"I guess there is one habit I share with my cousin."

They all laughed and Fred and George began telling jokes.

"Higgs is probably seeking Snitches in his dream. We should put one on a string and hang it over his head for when he wakes up."

"I had no idea that Alicia's b—"

"It was Snape," Hermione whispered in Harry's ear.

"—so big. I always thought they were about the size of cricket balls," George finished.

Harry groaned, "Thanks, Hermione. You made me miss—"

"He was the one jinxing your broom. We saw him mouthing a spell and after I set his cloak on fire you stopped jerking around."

"Set Snape's cloak on fire!" Harry giggled, "Brilliant!"

"Harry! He was trying to hurt or maybe kill you!"

"Nothing out of the ordinary there," Harry muttered.

"But Harry—"

"Would you shut up? I'm trying to listen."

Hermione threw up her hands as Harry turned back to listening to Fred and George.

Message from the author: I've decided to let a friend of mine write the next chapter. I've given him the basic idea for the chapter, but the rest is up to him. He's been wanting to join this site for a while, but wants to try out writing a little first. So for now, he's going by the name of Illegal Fireman. In the future, I plan to open one chapter of each of the next 2 parts to other authors. Please don't be too hard on my friend, he doesn't have much writing experience yet. Thanks for reading.

Next time on HPMF:

Harry: Where am I?

Dean: You're not in this chapter.

Ernie: The side characters are taking over the show!

Susan: Help! I'm being attacked by a snowman!

Ernie: Don't worry! I'll save you!


	12. Chapter 13: Guest Author: Snowmen Attack

It was snowing outside and everyone desided to make snowmen. Harry and everyone else wuz doing somethin else so Neville, luna, susan and ernie wuz by themselves. They rolled the balls like dogs cuz dogs like to play with balls. Then they stacked em up like dominos on there ends. Neville found sum carots in hagrids garden and stuck em on the ball on the top. Luna found sum rocks and stuck em in the top to. Then the raped scarfs around there heads susan put noodles on there heads like hare cuz hare is flawpy. Ernie gave em brums he found ina brum cubbord. Then Neville had the brileint idia two put a spell on em. He waved he wand and the snowmen come two life. They start attacked evrybudy. Susan wuz riting in she buk when a snowman raped she up with he scarf Neville wuz running fo he life. Ernie wuz maddathe wuz unda apreshun frum da snowman. He wuz swingin he sord arawnd and hitin em snowman luna run fo she life shootin em with she wond and ditbregindebalwuzfukinwter but she wuz under attack and wuz raped in ascarf two ernie wuz SHAWTIN THAT HE WUZ GONNA GET SHE SAFE AND SHOOT THE SNOWMAN HE PULL OUT HE WOND AND SHOOT THE SNOWMAN WITH HE WOND BUT THE SNOWMAN KEP CUMMIN SO HE SWUNG HE SORD AND KILT THE SNOWMAN NEVILLE HAD PD HE PANS BUT HE WUZ AWAYZ DOIN THAT HE NOT CARE THEYRE WUZ TREE MORE SNOWMEN SOTHEYHAD TWO KILL EM SUSAN WUZ SCREMIN AND RAPED UP SO ERNIE UCT SHE FREE WITH HE SORD SUSAN SCREME AND ERNIE CUT ANUDER SNOWMAN WITH HE SORD LUNA KILT ANUDDER WITH SHE WOND AND THE LAST CAME UP BEHIND SHE DEAN SHOOT IT WITH HE GUN CUZ HE CuL!


	13. Chapter 14: The Crimes of Sirius Black

I do not own Mystery Science Theater 3000, James Bond, or Smiggle's Shampoo and Conditioner.

I hope you all enjoyed that last chapter, because I'm never asking him to write another chapter for me. In regards to those of you who disliked his chapter, in his defense, he is attending Michigan State University and going for a major in English Literature. He is at the top of his class. As for myself, I'm going to read some Kitchen Princess and then write another chapter. That's right, knead the dough, Najika. Oh, that really does it for me… feh.

Chapter 14: Christmas With the Weasleys

"So Snape was trying to throw Harry off his broom?" Luna murmured, stunned.

"So I've heard," Harry muttered, "For some reason, no one's taken my amazing catch all that seriously."

"Harry, you almost died," Hermione said, exasperated.

"I'm sure I'd have thought of something."

"That's the spirit, Harry," Fred and George patted him on the back as they walked by.

They were standing at the Burrow's kitchen sink, peeling a mountain of sprouts for Mrs. Weasley. Snow was drifting past the window in front of them.

"It's not like there's anything we can do about it anyway," Ron said dully, "and did Fred have something funny under his arm just now?"

"Honestly," Hermione scolded, "Harry's life is in danger and all you can think of is what tomfoolery Fred and George are up to."

"Well, yeah," Ron said, as though his point were quite obvious.

"It looked like a frowning potato with legs," Harry said.

"It must be a Lanx if… no, Lanx don't have legs…" Luna trailed off.

"It sounds like a gnome," Ron said, "but knowing them, it could just as likely be something worse."

Hermione ground her teeth and Luna played with her Chao Bao Zi T-shirt.

"And that was an amazing catch, Harry," Ron added, just to tick Hermione off.

Hermione gave up, letting out a loud sigh.

Ginny walked into the kitchen, "Hey, guys. Mum said that once you're done with those, you can start on the yams."

Ron swore loudly, "Ginny, whose side are you on?"

"That's a cool shirt!" Ginny ignored Ron.

"Thanks, my dad picked it up at some school when he visited the Japanese Ministry to get permission to print an edition of _The Quibbler_ in Japanese. It never panned out," Luna shrugged.

Hermione walked off in the direction of the sitting room. Luna and Ginny nattered on for awhile about this and that. Eventually, they wandered off to Ginny's room to talk about clothes.

So, did you tell anyone in your family about the three-headed dog?"

"No," Ron frowned, "it's not something you just share, even with family."

"I suppose you're right. There's a reason the teachers don't want the students to know. I just wish I knew why."

"They must have their own reasons. Maybe it has something to do with Sirius Black."

"Hey, you two!" Fred and George had come back. "Aaah, George, look at this. They're using knives and everything. Bless them."

"I'll be seventeen (No, really) in two and a bit months' time," said Ron grumpily, "and then I'll be able to do it by magic!"

"The important thing to know about magic," George said in an uncanny imitation of Professor McGonagall, "is to know when not to use it."

"And meanwhile," Fred said, sitting down at the kitchen table and putting his feet up on it, "we can enjoy watching you demonstrate the correct use of a – whoops-a-daisy!"

"You made me do that!" said Ron angrily, sucking his cut thumb. "You wait, when I'm seventeen –"

"I'm sure you'll dazzle us all with hitherto unsuspected magical skills," yawned Fred.

"And while we're here, Ronald," said George, "what is this we've been hearing about you looking at a young miss Lavender Brown?"

Ron turned a little pink, but did not look displeased as he turned back to the sprouts. "What's it to you?"

"Well, we can't have our little bro looking at girls _without_ touching them. That would ruin our reputation. You don't have any guts. Harry had the nerve to show up to his date with Cho, and, from the sound of it, flirt with her."

"Do I have to?" Ron's face darkened a little.

"Yes."

"We've got some love potion," Fred said, shaking a little bottle. "This stuff's potent. We had Cho make us some of her specialty. This stuff should get her up in your dorm room at lightning speed."

"I won't use such despicable methods," Ron glared at them.

"I'll bet you've considered it, though. Am I right?" Fred smirked.

Mrs. Weasley entered the room just in time to see Ron throw the sprout knife at Fred, who had turned it into a paper airplane with one lazy flick of his wand.

"_Ron_!" she said furiously. "Don't you ever let me see you throwing knives again!"

"I won't," said Ron, "let you see," he added under his breath, as he turned back to the sprout mountain.

"Fred, George, I'm sorry, dears, but Bill is arriving tonight, so he'll have to squeeze in with you two."

"No problem," said George, striding off with Fred at his side.

"Then, as Charlie won't be here until tomorrow, that just leaves Harry and Ron in the attic. Oh, and Bill is bringing his girlfriend. I suppose she can share with Ginny and Luna – Harry, dear, would you mind telling them?"

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley," Harry nodded, setting down the knife and heading for the stairs as Ron continued peeling, grumbling under his breath.

Ginny's room was on the fourth floor. Maybe I should have mentioned this before, but the Weasley house is **big**. The door was shut, so Harry opened it. The knob turned silently and the door opened. Inside, Luna and Ginny were in the middle of changing.

Harry quickly shut it and stammered, "Err – sorry. Mrs. Weasley said that Bill's girlfriend will be sharing a room with you. Sorry."

There was silence for a few seconds before he heard Ginny say, "D*** it."

Blushing furiously, he returned to the kitchen to help Ron with the sprouts.

"You're red as a tomato. What's up?" Ron asked

"Girls…" Harry croaked.

"Piss me off too. If I had a Knut for every time one has embarrassed me…"

After dinner, they retired to the sitting room, which had been decorated lavishly with paper chains. Fred, George, Harry, and Ron were the only ones who knew that the angel on top of the tree was actually a garden gnome that had bitten Fred on the ankle as he pulled up carrots for dinner.

They were all supposed to be listening to a broadcast by Mrs. Weasley's favorite singer, Celestina Warbeck, whose voice was warbling out of the large wooden wireless set. Fleur, Bill's girlfriend, who seemed to find Celestina very dull, was talking so loudly in the corner that the scowling Mrs. Weasley kept pointing her wand at the volume control, so that Celestina grew louder and louder. Under cover of a particularly jazzy number called "A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Lust," Fred and George started a game of Exploding Snap with Ginny and Luna. Ron kept shooting Bill and Fleur covert looks, as though hoping to pick up tips. Little chance of that, as they were speaking in French. Meanwhile, Percy was sitting beside the fire, writing into a leather-backed diary, trying hard not to hear Celestina's voice.

_Oh, come and stir my cauldron,_

_And if you do it right,_

_I'll boil you up some hot milk_

_And warm your bed tonight._

As you may have noticed, I couldn't really make it all that much dirtier.

"We danced to this when we were eighteen!" shouted Mrs. Weasley, wiping her eyes on her knitting as Fred and George each shouted _eighteen?_ "Do you remember, Arthur?"

"Mphf?" said Mr. Weasley, whose head had been bobbing over the mistletoe he was inspecting. "Oh, yes… marvelous tune…"

With an effort, he sat up a little straighter and looked around at Harry, who was sitting next to him.

"Sorry about this," he said, jerking his head toward the wireless as Celestina broke into the chorus. "Be over soon."

"No problem," said Harry, grinning. "Has it been busy at the Ministry?"

"Very," said Mr. Weasley. "We've been two months since Black escaped and no one's seen hide nor hair of him."

"Why was he sent to prison in the first place?" Harry asked. "I never was able to get a good answer to that."

"Well, to be perfectly honest, we're not sure. The ministry doesn't want to admit it, but Black was a double agent working for the ministry during the war. He was convicted for killing a fellow agent, Peter Pettigrew, and two thousand muggles besides."

"That sounds like rather definite evidence to me," Harry said, incredulous.

"He claims that Pettigrew had turned on us and that the muggles were imperiused."

"Imperiused? What's that?"

"It means," Mr. Weasley sighed, "they were under the Imperius Curse. The Imperius Curse puts the victim under the control of the caster. During the war, the enemy discovered a new spell which allows someone to put many people under a general control at once, but it doesn't allow very good control and only works on the weak-minded. Now, we've solved the problem. The Japanese Ministry of Magic sent us some devices which make the curse fail in most areas of the United Kingdom."

Harry gaped and uttered, "How can anyone kill so many people even if they are under mind control?"

"He was under a great deal of emotional stress. We know that for certain. You see, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew were friends during their childhood. Whatever his excuse, he can't be forgiven for a crime we knew… Never mind what it was, but they proved he was guilty and sent him to Azkaban," Mr. Weasley shook his head sadly.

"I heard Azkaban was a prison. Is it really as bad as it sounds?"

"Yes, it is. Dreadful place, glad I've never been there, what with the Dementors."

"Dementors?"

"Yes, horrible things they are—"

"Arthur! You'll give him nightmares!"

"Sorry, Molly, I'll stop."

_Oh my poor heart, where has it gone?_

_Oh my! I think you're touching it!_

There was a small bang and Fred swore.

"J****** p*****!"

"Fred!" Molly shouted, managing to drown out both Fleur and Celestina.

"He's not Fred," George corrected, "I am!"

"George!"

"What'd I do?"

"You – Wait which one am I supposed to be – keep it down, you two!"

Molly sat back down and pointed her wand at the radio again.

… _and now you've taken it from me_

_I'll thank you to give me back my heart!_

Celestina ended her song on a very long, high-pitched note and loud applause issued out of the wireless, which Mrs. Weasley joined in with enthusiastically.

Fleur said something in French, probably along the lines of, "Thank Pleinair that's over!" because Bill didn't translate.

"Shall we have a nightcap, then?" asked Mr. Weasley loudly, leaping to his feet. "Who wants eggnog?"

They all stepped into the kitchen for some eggnog. This was a short change of scenery, because Fleur decided it might be fun to try imitating Celestina's singing. Everyone took the look on Mrs. Weasley's face as a cue to be the cue to go to bed. Harry and Ron climbed all the way up to the attic bedroom he shared with Percy, where a camp bed had been added for Harry.

Harry fell asleep almost immediately.

Harry woke with a start to find a bulging stocking lying over the end of his bed. He put his glasses on and looked around; the tiny window was almost completely obscured with snow and, in front of it, Ron was sitting bolt upright in bed and examining his own stocking.

"Merry Pleinair Day!" he said cheerily.

"Merry – what?"

"Don't tell me you don't know what Pleinair Day is! It's the day we celebrate the creation of the world by the Goddess Pleinair," Percy said drowsily, inspecting a blue sweater with a big P on it.

Harry looked down at the stocking at the base of his bed in surprise.

"Will you look at this? I've got some presents!"

"Really? I hadn't noticed," Ron smirked.

"I never got anything from the Dursleys."

"Gosh that must have – sucked," Percy shook his head.

Harry picked up the top parcel. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it was To Harry, from Hagrid. Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. Harry blew it – it sounded a bit like an owl.

A second, very small parcel contained a note.

_We received your message and will be happy to continue to store and guard your gold for you. We here at Gringotts wish you a very merry Pleinair Day._ There was an origami dove in the parcel which fluttered out and around the room.

"That's pretty," said Harry.

"Indeed," Percy agreed, petting the origami dove that had been in his.

"Hagrid and Gringotts. Then who sent these? Not my aunt and uncle, certainly."

"I think I know who that one's from," said Ron, turning a bit pink and pointing to a lumpy parcel. "My mum. I told her you didn't expect any presents and – oh, no," he groaned, "she's made you a Weasley sweater."

Harry had torn open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge.

"Every year she makes us a sweater," said Ron, unwrapping his own, "and mine's _always_ maroon."

"That's really nice of her," said Harry, trying the fudge, which was very tasty.

His next present also contained candy – a large box of Chocolate Toads from Hermione.

Luna had given him an unbreakable silver blue rope which she claimed was made from the back hair of the Finnish Hyena.

Seamus had sent a red cloak with the Gryffindor Lion embroidered on the left breast.

"Thanks for the present, Harry," Ron said, ripping open the bag of Sugar Moths Harry had bought for him in Hogsmeade.

Harry was looking at his new sweater and cloak in a standing mirror when Fred and George kicked the door open.

"Merry Pleinair Day!"

"Hey, look – Harry's got a Weasley sweater, too!"

Fred and George were wearing blue sweaters, one with a large yellow F on it, the other a G.

"Harry's is better than ours, though," said Fred, inspecting Harry's sweater, "she obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family."

"Why aren't you wearing yours, Ron?" George (As you may have noticed, by this point I'm just guessing which one is saying what. This way, I don't have to develop separate characters for them and can just pair them as one person.) demanded. "Come on, get it on, they're lovely and warm."

"I hate maroon," Ron moaned halfheartedly as he pulled it over his head.

"You haven't got a letter on yours," George observed. "I suppose she thinks you don't forget your name. But we're not stupid – we know we're called Giselle and Fiora."

"Will you two shut up?" Percy more-or-less screamed.

"P for prefect!" Fred exclaimed, picking up Percy's sweater. "Get it on Percy, come on, we're all wearing ours."

"Do – not – want—" said Percy thickly, as the twins forced the sweater over his head, knocking his glasses askew.

"And you're not sitting in your room all day studying, either," said George. "Pleinair Day is a time for family."

They frog marched Percy from the room, his arms pinned to his sides by his sweater.

Harry picked up his last present. He felt it. It was very light. He unwrapped it.

Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds. Ron gasped.

"I've heard of those," he said in a hushed voice, dropping the bag of Sugar Moths. "If that's what I think it is – they're really rare and _really_ valuable."

"What is it?"

Harry picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material.

"It's an invisibility cloak," said Ron, a look of awe on his face. "I'm sure it is – try it on."

Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders and Ron gave a yell.

"It is! Look down!"

Harry looked down at his feet, but they were gone. He looked in the mirror. Sure enough, his reflection looked back at him, just from the neck up. He pulled the cloak over his head and disappeared completely.

"There's a note!" said Ron suddenly. "A note fell out of it!"

Harry pulled off the cloak and seized the letter. Written in narrow, loopy writing he had never seen before were the following words:

_Your father left this in my possession before_

_he died. It's time it was returned to you._

_Use it well._

_A Very Merry Pleinair Day to you._

There was no signature. Harry stared at the note. Ron was admiring the cloak.

"I'd give _anything_ for one of these," he said. "_Anything_. I'll give you my sister for it."

They both fell over, rolling with laughter.

Everyone was wearing new sweaters when they all sat down for Christmas lunch, everyone except Fleur (on whom, it appeared, Mrs. Weasley had not wanted to waste one) and Mrs. Weasley herself, who was sporting a brand-new midnight blue witch's hat glittering with what looked like tiny starlike diamonds, and a spectacular golden necklace.

"Bill gave them to me! Aren't they beautiful?"

"Yes, they are, Molly," Arthur hugged her tight with a small smile and an adjustment of a pair of new silver rimmed spectacles.

"Harry, you've got a maggot in your hair," said Luna dreamily, leaning across the table to pick it out; Harry felt goose bumps erupt up his neck that had less to do with the maggot and more to do with what he'd seen her like the night before.

Fleur said something in French with an affected shudder.

"What's she say?" Arthur asked Bill.

"How horrible."

"Yes, isn't it?" Ron agreed. "Pass the syrup, dad."

The gravy boat slipped out of Mr. Weasley's fingers. Before the spilled gravy could land in Ron's lap, Bill waved his wand. The gravy soared up in the air and returned meekly to the boat.

"You're as bad as Neville," Harry said to Ron, laughing.

"Arthur!" said Mrs. Weasley suddenly. She had risen from her chair; her hand was pressed over her heart and she was staring out of the kitchen window. "Arthur – it's the Minister!"

"_What_?"

Mr. Weasley looked around. Everybody looked quickly at the window; Ginny stood up for a better look. There, sure enough, was a man in a pinstriped cloak, a lime-green bowler hat, and a bottle-green suit. He looked very official. A moment later he began walking toward the back door. Mr. Weasley jumped up and rushed to the door and opened it just before the Minister reached it.

"Merry Pleinair Day, Mr. Weaggly," he said smartly, oblivious to the fact that he had addressed Mr. Weasley incorrectly.

"Welcome, Minister," Mr. Weasley bowed.

"Please, let me take your coat and you a seat, Minister," Mrs. Weasley bowed.

"Not necessary," the Minister said, smirking. "I came because I wanted a quick word with Harry."

He beckoned to Harry. Harry stood up, aware of all the eyes staring at them as they walked through the back door. For a few moments, they just stood there. Then the minister broke the silence.

"I am the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, as you may have heard. And you are Harry Potter. I trust that you know who you are."

"I'm the boy who lived, right?"

"Quite right. You-Know-Who tried to kill you and failed, the spell somehow backfiring on him, killing him, instead. Though I suppose you don't know how he found your parents?"

"He would have found a way, wouldn't he? How should I know?" he remembered at the last second who he was speaking to. "Sir."

Fudge gave a small frown. "Yes, well, your parents' home was under the protection of the Fidelius Charm. The Fidelius Charm prevents those who do not know the existence of a location from finding it. The charm requires, however, that someone knows of the location, and anyone who learns of the location can enter it. They can tell about or show others the location. The Secret Keeper for the Potter house was named Sirius Black."

Harry gaped at him, then quickly closed his mouth.

"Sirius Black was a childhood friend of the Potters. When they went into hiding, they named him Secret Keeper. Black was an undercover agent working for the Ministry at the time. Of course, we didn't know that he was really a double agent who was really working for You-Know-Who. He told You-Know-Who the location of the house, and the rest is history. I realize this must be a huge shock to you."

Harry felt like he was about to faint.

"And you know that Sirius Black recently escaped from Azkaban. Now, we are getting to what I came here to tell you."

"Which is what? …Sir."

"Simply a warning to be careful. After all, he doomed your parents to death a decade and a half ago. Chances are, he may go after you next."

"So," Ron asked him when he reentered the dining room, "what'd he have to say?"

Harry slumped back in a chair. "Sirius Black told Voldemort how to kill my parents and is coming after me."

Around the room, faces paled. Harry knew his own face was pale.

"It's not as bad as all that," Mr. Weasley said, trying to be cheerful, "he's probably decided to give up his evil ways and start a new life."

Harry could tell Mr. Weasley was lying, but decided it wouldn't do any good to be negative about it, "Yeah, that's what he'll do. Now that we've got that settled, could you pass the gravy, Ron?"

Later, as Harry sat in the sitting room, looking into the fire, Hermione sat down next to him.

"I suppose you're here to tell me it will be all better, too," Harry said casually.

Hermione blushed. "No, I just wanted to thank you for giving me that copy of Lord of Chaos by Robert Jordan. It's excellent. One of the best fantasy books in recent years."

All righty then, I sponsored your bloody book, now where's my mon— Oh, there it is.

"You _do_ love books."

"Well, yeah."

They sat there for a little while. Luna plopped down beside Harry and slid an arm around his shoulder.

"Hiya, Harry! How're you doing?" she asked cheerfully.

"How do you think I'm doing?" Harry replied gloomily.

Hermione said something about hot cocoa and left. They sat in silence for a little while.

"So, how did my ! look?"

Harry turned beet red. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to peek."

"Oh, it's ok. Ginny still gets a nosebleed when she thinks about it, though. So, how did my ! look?"

"Um… good."

"Why thank you, a lady loves being complimented."

Harry couldn't tell if she was daft or plastered.

"Uh, Luna…"

"I know, people usually don't take things like that too well."

"That's one way of putting it. Hermione chastised Ron about it when he did it to her for a week straight whenever they thought no one was listening."

"He looked at her naked for a week straight while no one was listening?"

"No, she nagged him for a week straight. Blimey."

"I can see that," Luna laughed.

"You don't act like other girls."

"Well," Luna said, "would you prefer it if I called you a pervert and verbally abused you?"

"No," Harry laughed.

"But that doesn't mean I'm going to show it off for you," Luna said sternly.

Ok, I know a lot of people are by now thinking that I'm going to ship Harry and Luna. I'm not. I'm just going to outright say it. Luna is one of the people Harry tries, and fails to have, a relationship with. Rather like the one he had with Cho in canon.

"Of course not," Harry nodded.

"So," Luna said, once again upbeat, "Is breast perkiness a good thing or bad thing to guys?"

Some while later, Harry and Bill were shoveling the front walk.

"So, how's school?" Bill asked. "I hope you're getting along well with my little bro. "

"Yeah," Harry nodded, "He's a good friend."

"Best friend?"

"No, not really."

"Didn't think so. He's not very personable."

"How do you mean?" Harry asked, curious.

"Not many people understand him. He's been overshadowed his entire life. Five older brothers, can you imagine?"

"I guess so."

"I imagine that he feels like everything has already been done. That if he does something important, one of us will have done it first. I was Head Boy. Percy was a Prefect. Charlie was Quidditch captain. It's no wonder he acts so anti-social. But that's not a very happy subject. Is there anything you want to talk about?"

"Well, not really, no. Oh, wait a moment. You're an archaeologist, aren't you?"

Bill nodded. "That I am."

"What do you do?"

"Me? I go all over the world searching for lost treasures and temples, evading traps and natives, and learning about history. And scouting out good land for Gringotts to buy."

"Why would Gringotts want to buy land?" Harry asked.

"Gringotts is like any other bank, Harry. They buy land, develop it, and sell it as a higher price. I've made Gringotts thousands of Galleons finding good land in the South American Rainforest to develop."

"It's a good thing Lavender doesn't know that. She'd probably send you a mail bomb."

Bill shook his head. "That poor misguided girl. Cutting down the trees doesn't deplete the world oxygen supply. Most of the world's oxygen comes from volcanoes."

"I think she's more worried about the animals."

"That's just silly. It's not like animals have souls."

Bill shrugged. Harry wasn't sure that was a good argument, but he didn't say anything and went back to shoveling.

Next time on HPMF:

Dumbledore: Next time on HPMF…

Harry: We already did that!

Snape: Headmaster, I really think you need to take your medication.

Dumbledore: Look! I found a camera!

Justin: Hey! My camera!

Snape: Oh, who cares?

Dumbledore: Merry Christmas!

Harry: We already did that, too!


	14. 2nd Intermission: That Too Weird Chapter

I do not own Wargames, Conan the Barbarian, or Jack Frost.

2nd Intermission: That Too Weird Chapter

**The Twins Swear**

"Hey, sis, isn't it annoying that we can't swear properly?"

"Yeah, it really pisses me off."

"Hey, you just said 'piss!'"

"We can still say some wear words? How is that?"

"Don't question the loophole, abuse it."

"If we can say piss, do you think we can say other words?"

"I don't know. It's worth a shot."

"S***. D***. F***. A**. Tits. Sweet!"

"Cool, we can say tits. How about d***?"

"I already tried d***."

"Tits. A**. What about arse? Huh, arse works. Wanker. B******. Son of a b****!"

"That can't be right. Let me try something. That b**** stole my money. The puppies were born and the bitch was very happy for it. There, it just depends on the way we use it. I am holding a sheet of paper. A sheet. Sheet."

"Very nice! We can't say s***, but we _can_ say sheet!"

"Kind of lame, though. Bugger. Ok, that one's good. Sex. Bloody. Hell. C***. Oh well, I suppose it was too much to hope for. J****** P*****. Sheet! Pokery. Jiggery. J****** P***** - F***!"

"Fanny. Eh, pretty cool."

"Cool? Fanny cool? Let's really ramp it up. Twat!"

"Awesome."

"Yes. Yes it is."

"I wonder if they'll let us say this one. P*** V**** C*******."

"How disappointing. I suppose it was pretty rank."

"Yeah, but I still hate those f****** wankers at the FCC.

**Hogwarts Student Host Club**

Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry is attended by those few privileged individuals who were born with the ability to use wand magic. One such student is named Harry Potter. He, however, is busy doing something important right now, so the character in this segment is named Terry Boot.

Terry walked down the hall with some purpose having to do with sherbet lemons, but that is a tale for another time. All we need to know is that he peeked into the 3rd music room. And that is how all his troubles began. He was grabbed roughly by the shoulders and yanked into the room. As soon as he regained his balance, he looked around. He was in a beautiful room filled with carnations and roses, lace, and assorted expensive decorations like big priceless vases. Before him was a handsome young man with blond hair.

"Welcome," he said in an elegant manner. "I am Damagi Elegante. And this… is a host club."

"What the hell is a host club? And what's with these flowers, these frilly tablecloths, and these big expensive vases?" Terry asked, entranced.

"A host club, my effeminate friend, is a place where girls come to enjoy themselves by purchasing the companionship of a young man in a beautiful room filled with roses, doilies, and big priceless vases."

"You're a prostitute?"

"No," he said calmly, "I'm a conversationalist. It is my dream to bring to fruition the dreams of everyone in the world!"

"And I'm just looking for—" Terry said, backing away.

He bumped into something and turned about quickly. A vase struck the ground and burst into a million pieces.

"—A way out…" Terry's voice cracked.

"Oh my, you're in trouble now. That vase was worth 8 million zaire!" *Which is probably about 10 pounds* Damagi cried.

"Don't worry, I can pay for—" Terry was saying.

"Oh, no. I'll understand if you can't pay. In that case, you'll just need to work for us to pay it off."

"Actually, I can afford—"

"You'll only need to gain 1,000 requests…" Damagi continued.

"Are you even listening to me?" Terry asked, aghast.

This eventually led to Terry working for the host club and entertaining women. He had many humorous adventures and blah blah blah—Next segment!

**Snape Duels West**

Snape was eating his eggs as usual, enjoying the juicy yellow center and the dry white edges. Just as he was moving onto his second egg, Professor West stood up and swatted Snape's plate off the table. Snape stood up and glared at him.

"What was that?" Snape asked coldly.

"I WAS HAVING SOME ORANGE JUICE AND SPILLED! CLEAN IT UP!" West said.

"I wouldn't clean it up if I had spilled it myself, you man-child."

"YOU'LL EAT THOSE WORDS! AND MY FIST! PREPARE YOURSELF!" Adam shouted, jumping to his feet.

Snape drew his wand from his robe, but West kicked it out of his hand and across the table. Then he punched Snape in the face. Snape jumped back, tossing a pitcher of grape juice at West, staining his pants. West slashed with his wand, sending a flash of red light at Snape, who blocked it with a Hufflepuff. West dove behind the table as Snape began firing curses from the Hufflepuff's wand.

The students fled in terror as Snape kicked the Ravenclaw table over for cover. Snatching up another wand, he began dual firing curses. West threw a bottle of Champagne Hagrid had left behind, which arced over Snape table and broke beside him, lacerating his left hand. Snape dropped one of the wands and shot a Petrifaction at West, who ducked. West ran out from behind cover and Snape tried a full body bind curse. West threw the table cloth into its path, stopping it. Bounding over the Gryffindor table, he shot a stupefaction, which Snape blocked. Snape threw up a shield with a whispered Protego. West held up Snape's favorite stuffed animal, a bear with one button eye and poked it with his wand.

"Just one word, Severus, and it goes up in flames!" He whispered loudly.

"Adam, after all the years I've known you, you'd honestly stoop to that level?" Snape asked.

"Snape?" Adam asked, touched.

Snape hit West with a wandless muggle spell, tying him in ropes. West struggled in the bonds.

"Sorry, West, but today, the victory is mine."

With that, he drained a bottle of pumpkin juice and laughed in a triumphant and evil manner.


	15. Chapter 15: All Caught Up Now

I do not own Ninja Warrior, Lucasfilm, or the song Just Be Friends.

Chapter 15: The Aisha, the Twit, and the Mirror

Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. Neville was in detention for bringing some snowmen to life, which then attacked other students.

No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Hufflepuff common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons.

"I do feel so sorry," said Luna Lovegood, one Potions class, "for all those centaur who were neutered and forced to serve in our foreign legion."

Susan snorted. "They don't neuter them before drafting them."

"That's not true," Luna protested, "the centaur are neutered to prevent them from breeding while overseas."

Susan knew she would just go on and on if she continued the argument, so she dropped it. When they left the dungeons at the end of Potions, they found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it.

"Hi, Hagrid, want any help?" Luna asked, sticking her head through the branches.

"Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Luna."

"Would you mind if we slipped past you?" Ernie asked.

He, Justin, and Terry shuffled around the tree.

"Have a good day, boys!" Hagrid called after them.

Susan sighed.

"Is there something wrong, Susan?" Luna asked.

"Cheer up, it's nearly Yule," said Hagrid. Tell yeh what, come with me an' see the Great Hall, looks a treat."

So Susan and Luna followed Hagrid and his tree off to the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Lovecraft were busy with the Pleinair decorations.

"Ah, Hagrid, the last tree – put it in the far corner, would you?"

The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering evergreens stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.

"How many days you got left until yer holidays?" Hagrid asked.

"Just one," said Susan. "And that reminds me – Luna, we've got to be in the library."

"The library?" said Hagrid, following them out of the hall. "Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?"

"Oh, we're not working," Luna told him brightly. "We're scouting out a cute guy for Hermione."

"You _what_?" Hagrid looked shocked. "Listen here – I've told yeh – drop it. Rowling's made it perfectly clear who she's goin to be paired with."

"We just want to do something nice for her. You know, before she gets stuck with that idiot," Susan persuaded. "If you could hint to her that Dean's single…"

"I'm sayin' nothin'," said Hagrid flatly.

"Just have to convince her ourselves, then," said Luna, and they left Hagrid looking disgruntled and hurried off to the library.

They had indeed been searching for a suitable guy for Hermione. The trouble was, it was very hard to know where to begin, not knowing what Hermione found attractive. She hadn't liked Justin Finch-Fletchly, Zacharias Smith, and Seamus Finnigan. Right now, the two they were looking into were Dean Thomas and Draco Malfoy. Dean spent a lot of time down in the dungeons where he worked with Professor Lovecraft to inscribe bullets with magic runes. Draco frequented the library to study wizarding ancestry. Of the two, Luna and Susan both thought she'd like Dean better. Luna and Susan split up to find Draco. Susan was looking into the fourth study area when someone grabbed her shoulder. She spun around.

"Why are you sneaking around?" Draco asked.

"I'm looking for Dean, have you seen him?" she said desperately.

"No, but I understand he likes to hang out in the dungeons, you might try there."

"Yes, thank you," Susan said, bowing herself out.

Wishing she'd been a bit quicker at thinking up some story, Susan left the library. She and Luna hadn't planned out what to do if they were discovered. The library was so large that Luna wouldn't even realize she was gone and would probably be there for a few hours. Poor Luna.

Once the holidays had started, Susan was unable to continue her project, as Luna, Draco, Hermione, and Dean had all gone home. So she spent her time in the common room studying, relaxing, and eating.

Justin also started teaching her wizard chess. This was exactly like the Muggle chess set at her house except that the figures were alive, which made it a lot like directing troops in battle. Justin's set was very old and battered. He had gotten it from his grandfather. However, old chessmen weren't a drawback at all. Justin knew them so well he never had trouble getting them to do what he wanted.

Susan played with chessmen Cedric Diggory had lent her, and they didn't trust her at all. She wasn't a very good player yet and they kept shouting different bits of advice at her, which was confusing. "Don't send me there, can't you see his knight? Send _him_, we can afford to lose _him_."

Studying and chessmen aside, it was quite relaxing. Awaking on Christmas morning, she found a stack of presents on the end of her bed.

"Happy Pleinair Day," said Hannah sleepily as Susan crawled over her covers.

"You, too," said Susan. "Will you look at this?"

"Is that what I think it is?" Hannah exclaimed as she tumbled out of bed.

Susan admired the animal in the cage at the foot of her bed. It was pink with long antennae on its head and a white V on its chest. It was undoubtedly an Aisha. Susan held her hand out to the Aisha. It sniffed her hand for a few seconds, then licked it. She snatched a letter off the top of the cage and tore it open. It read:

_Dear Susan,_

_While we were on vacation in the Pacific, we found this Aisha in a pet shop. The storeowner says that they are very friendly and good singers. We thought you might like it. One of the other packages contains a book on taking care of it. Have a very nice Pleinair season._

_Love, your parents._

Susan opened some of the smaller boxes, looking for the book while Hannah petted the Aisha through the bars of the cage. At last she found it. It was a bright blue book several inches thick with the words _Gilderoy Lockheart's Guide to Aisha Raising_ emblazoned on the cover in shiny silver letters. She opened it and flipped through it until she found a promising chapter. Entitled _So you've got an Aisha_, it detailed the important steps to take when first introducing yourself to your Aisha. The imprinting of an Aisha is most definitely an intriguing and lengthy process. That is why I'm cutting it from the book.

Susan had never had a Pleinair feast quite like this one. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes and yams; platters of enchiladas; tureens of boiled cabbage, pink slices of salmon on silver platters – and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table. These were about average party favors. They gave a decent bang and produced a cloud of colored smoke. Dumbledore demonstrated this and swapped his pointed wizard's hat for a flowery bonnet, and was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Lovecraft had just read him.

Flaming Pleinair puddings followed the main course. Justin nearly broke his teeth on a silver sickle embedded in his chunk. Susan watched Snape getting pinker and pinker in the face as he called for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek. She was understandably pissed. The students who had remained behind were treated to the rare sight of Professor McGonagall slugging Snape. For the rest of the feast he wore a nasty purple bruise. The feast was ended with a performance by three white mice, which danced and sang down the main aisle. Their performance was cut short by the arrival of Mrs. Norris, who chased them from the hall.

Following the feast, the Hufflepuffs returned to their common room where they played games of Exploding Snap, wizard chess, and Scrabble. After feasting on all that delicious food, they all felt too lethargic to do much else. Soon, tired, they all went to bed.

Sometime during the night, Susan awoke to find that her new Aisha, Maria, was gone. Susan sleepily got out of bed. She put on her very nice yellow lightning tiger fur slippers which were decorated with white unicorn designs and had only cost her about 4o quid and shuffled to the common room. She spotted Maria walking out the door. Susan followed her out. Maria led her on quite a chase, always keeping just in view. She eventually jogged into the Great Hall. Despite the hour, Pavarti and Padma Patil were sitting at the Ravenclaw table, talking quietly. Maria was sitting under the twins, sniffing their shoes.

Susan walked over to them and picked Maria up. The two had been crying. Susan felt a bit awkward.

"What's wrong?" Susan asked nervously.

"Well," Padma, who knew Susan better, said, "you know how we're dating the Weasley twins, right?"

"I'd heard," Susan said cautiously.

"What they did… It- it was horrible."

"They didn't break up with you, did they?"

"No… They swapped," Padma shuddered and Pavarti weeped more.

"Swapped? You mean one couldn't make it to a date and switched places with their twin?"

"They did it for fun. To tease us. They swapped places at bed time the other day."

"Oh… OH!" Susan figured it out. "You mean before they…"

"Yes. Usually I sleep with her, but her brother… It just felt so wrong…" Padma whispered, crying.

"And I like my man's big…" Pavarti burst into tears.

"It's okay, it's going to be fine," Susan said softly, holding them tight.

"So wrong…" Padma whispered. "So wrong…"

Justin liked the rules and didn't put up with misbehavior of any sort. Of course, this meant that he wasn't all that popular. This was a fact that he had come to accept over the years. Waking up on Pleinair morning, he didn't expect any gifts from his fellow students. He was not disappointed. Hardly anyone had bothered to get him anything.

His parents had sent him various sweets and clothes. From Susan there was a knitted blue scarf and from Ernie, _Mounting Succubi by Gilderoy Lockheart_. These two he put in the bottom of his trunk, burying them beneath the heap of impersonal sweets. Around him, his fellow classmates had begun to awaken. Justin finished preparing himself for the day and left the dorm room.

The Great Hall was relatively empty of students and Justin sat down for the feast at one table with all the other students and teachers. He was between Ernie and some other student, listening to the talk. He was good at listening. Sometimes it seemed to him that it was his only useful skill. If he talked too much, at least about himself, he might say something that would make them think him more different than he already was. _That_ must be avoided at all costs.

Justin was just taking a bite of his pudding when he felt a terrible pain in one of his teeth. He spat out a Sickle.

"A sickle? Lucky," Ernie commented as he shoveled his pudding down, though slightly slower, taking time to chew.

"Lucky? If I'm lucky, it'll only mean a quick trip to the dentist," Justin said, outraged.

"That's the spirit," Lee Jordan said, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, "Let's sue the school!"

Justin gave an uneasy laugh. He hoped Lee was joking.

"I'm not sure you could win," Angelina Johnson said, shaking her head, "You did get a sickle out of it. Just be happy to get that."

"I suppose you're right. I've heard that Dumbledore has never lost a court case, especially when money is involved," Justin said thoughtfully.

"You're absolutely right," Angelina agreed, "from what I've read in the library, Dumbledore never _has_ lost a—"

"All that intelligent talk is getting boring," Lee groaned. "Can't we do something more… questionable?"

"There's more to a relationship that breaking beds."

Jordan sighed. Then he slid an arm around her shoulders, resting it on her bosom. She gave a little squeak of excitement, both slapping and grabbing his hand. As the pair began kissing, Ernie watched with delighted interest. Justin averted his eyes, not really caring to see it. Susan shook his shoulder.

"Something wrong? You're acting a tad odd."

"I'm fine, thanks."

"And he swoops out of the sky in his sleigh," Hannah was saying.

"What are you talking about?" Justin asked.

"Santa Claus," was her exuberant reply.

"What?"

"Santa Claus. I'm Catholic, you see."

"How is Sandy Duncan important to the Catholic faith?" Justin asked dubiously.

"It all started thousands of years ago…"

"Give me the short version."

"He was born on Christmas a thousand years ago and his birth was heralded by angels. Three wise guys came to give him gifts of perfume, oil, and money. Then after he was a famous prophet, a follower betrayed him and he was killed. He rose from the dead three days later and now, on Christmas, he gives presents to children all around the world," she finished, her eyes twinkling.

"Cock," Justin said. (Americans prefer the term _bull_)

"What?"

"Sandy Duncan wasn't born thousands of years ago. Maybe a couple hundred, but certainly not a thousand."

"Santa Claus! **Santa Claus!**" she shouted.

Students and teachers up and down the table turned to look at her and Dumbledore giggled merrily. Hannah suddenly seemed very interested in her mashed potatoes.

After the feast, Justin joined Professor Lovecraft in his office for some Plasma Tea and chitchat. Said chitchat was mainly philosophy, but there was some more normal conversation thrown in.

"Have you found any friends yet?" Lovecraft said casually.

"What are you trying to insinuate?" Justin sputtered.

"Nothing, nothing. I was just thinking that Plato had some friends and it might be a good idea to follow his example."

"It doesn't make any sense to imitate someone else's life down to minute details in hopes of achieving success by them."

"That's not what I meant," Lovecraft said cheerfully. "I meant that you might be able to understand where he's coming from better if you put yourself in his shoes."

"Oh."

The door opened and Katie Bell stuck her head through the opening, "Excuse me Professor, it's eight o' clock."

"Sorry, Justin, Katie scheduled a meeting with me."

"It's fine ,Professor, I'll see you tomorrow," Justin said and waved good-bye.

He left the room, shutting the door behind him. His meetings with Professor Lovecraft could be interesting, but he was always so busy during normal school hours that they couldn't have many philosophical discussions with him. It seemed that, even during break, he was really busy.

Justin, with nothing else to do, went back to the Hufflepuff common room and played a game of Scrabble against Ernie, Susan, and Cedric, and naturally, won. After this, they played a few rounds of Exploding Snap and went to bed.

The next morning was not quite so bright and wonderful as the one before. A blizzard had swept over the castle soundlessly during the night and it had filled the windowsills to the top with snow, blacking them out. When the sun rose, the students slept on, even Justin. They all woke at their leisure, and upon seeing the dark grey blur outside the window, some just went back to bed and others got up and went to the common room. Justin was one of the latter, trudging down to the common room and slouching into one of the chairs.

"Sleep well?" Terry asked.

"No, not really," Justin muttered.

"Why? It's the holiday. Who's unhappy at the holidays?"

"Me, apparently."

Ernie bounded down the steps, his voice in all likelihood awakening everyone in Hufflepuff, "It snowed!"

"We're right here, Ernie. No need to yell," Justin scolded, rubbing an ear.

"Sorry. You guys want to go outside and make snowmen?" Ernie asked eagerly.

"No!" the common room rumbled with the massed shout.

"Okay. I just wanted a bit more practice with my sword."

"If you're so keen, then why don't you and Terry go down to the practice fields later and you can beat on him in armor," Justin suggested.

"Do I have any say in this?" Terry asked desperately.

"I'd be very happy if you did, Terry, thanks. I'll see you there at 11. Don't be late."

"Why me?"

Harry had enjoyed his time at the Weasley's house, but he wasn't disappointed when it was time to return to Hogwarts. There were carriages waiting at the train station to return them to the castle when they arrived. The return feast was so extravagant, Harry was amazed that Hogwarts could afford so much food. After the feast, stuffed, they retired to bed. Harry was caught on something, though. He couldn't stop wondering what, exactly, was meant by the _use it well_ written on the note by the one who had sent him the invisibility cloak. Use it for what? Either one of two things: to spy on the girls in the washroom, or to find out more about whatever the dog was guarding.

He decided to do them in the order in which he'd thought them, and after he had enjoyed a long peek, went to the library. The restricted section, which Hermione complained about often, housed books telling of powerful dark magic. That sounded like a good place to start.

The library was pitch black and very eerie. Harry lit a lamp to see his way along the rows of books. The lamp looked as if it was floating along in midair, and even though Harry could feel his arm supporting it, the sight gave him the creeps.

The Restricted Section was right at the back of the library. Harry tried stepping over the rope separating these books from the rest of the library. He failed, tripping over the higher-than-it-looked rope. Hoping no one had heard him fall or yell, "Balls!" Harry quickly and quietly slipped away from the entrance. He held up his lamp to read some titles.

They didn't tell him much. Their peeling, faded gold letters spelled words in languages Harry couldn't understand. Some had no title at all. One book had a funny stain on it that Harry considered before deciding that it could just as easily be blood as something else. He had to start somewhere. Setting the lamp down carefully on the floor, he looked along the bottom shelf for an interesting-looking book. He passed over Nug Soup for the Teenage Soul and _Going Rogue_ before he spotted a large black and silver volume. He pulled it out with difficulty, because it was very heavy, and, balancing it on his knee, let it fall open.

A loud shrieking voice within the book was shouting, "I'll kill you, you b***** p****** w********* d******** s*******!"

Harry stumbled backward and knocked over his lamp, which went out at once. He ran for it, passing Filch in the doorway. Luckily Filch had unhooked the separating rope, so Harry had no trouble there. He ran wildly through the corridors with no idea where he was or was going. He came to a sudden halt in front of a tall suit of armor. He was lost. Perhaps because it was dark, he didn't recognize where he was at all.

"You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library – Restricted Section."

Harry felt the blood drain out of his face. Wherever he was, Filch must know the shortcut, because his soft, greasy voice was getting nearer, and to his horror, it was Snape who replied, "The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them."

Harry stood rooted to the spot as Filch and Snape came around the corner ahead. Harry quietly slipped through a slightly ajar door nearby. They walked straight past, and Harry leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, listening to their footsteps dying away. It was a few moments before he noticed that he shared the room with something almost as amazing as he was.

It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: _Ezirp laiceps ytfif nosaes lodi nacirema_. His panic fading now that there was no sound of Filch and Snape, Harry moved nearer to the mirror. He stepped in front of it, expecting to see the wall behind him.

Instead, what he saw was Cho Chang doing a striptease. He whirled around. No Cho. Breathing very fast, he turned quickly back to the mirror.

Cho was down to only her pants now. It seemed she only existed in the mirror. Why?

"So," said a voice behind him, "you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Ytilibaniattanu."

"Is that what it's called?" Harry asked, scared out of wits, for, behind him, was Albus Dumbledore.

"I expect you know what it does?"

"It – well – it shows my crush doing something Lavender would call demeaning to women or something."

"Not a bad sight, I expect. In reality, the mirror shows us something that we want. Either we shall never get it, or when the time comes that we do, it won't be something we want anymore."

"What sadistic b****** made this thing?" Harry wondered aloud.

"My friend Nicholas Flamel, mainly to prot—Well, for personal reasons, but… I suppose it best to tell you that the Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again."

I bet Dumbledore was thinking as he said that, "I've got him hooked now!"

Harry stood up.

"Sir – Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?"

"Obviously, you've just done so," Dumbledore smiled. "You may ask me one more thing, however."

"Are you always this brilliant or is this one of your more… lucid moments?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Harry stared. _Well, that answers one question, _he thought.

"Now off to bed with you. It would not do to go falling asleep in Potions."

Next time on HPMF:

Luna: We need to get Hermione on a date with Draco.

Harry: She'll never agree to it.

Ron: If I can get together with Lavender, he's got a shot.

Hermione: What's going on?

Harry: Run away!

Ron: I may be running away, but I'm no chicken!

Hermione: You turkeys!


	16. Sixteenth Period: Cameras in the Woods

I do not own The Pink Panther, The Maltese Falcon, or The Black Cauldron.

Chapter 16: Into the Forest

Wood was working the team harder than ever. Even the endless rain that had replaced the snow hadn't dampened his spirits. If they won the next match, against Hufflepuff, they would overtake Slytherin in the House championship in like forever. Quite apart from wanting to win, Harry found that he had fewer nightmares when he was tired out after training.

Then, during one particularly wet and muddy practice session, Wood gave the team a bit of bad news. He'd just gotten very angry with the Weasleys, who kept taking breaks from practice to toss engorged slugs through the window of Professor West's office.

"Will you two stop messing around!" he yelled. "We need to be in good form for the upcoming match! Snape's not as forgetful as Professor West and he'll be looking to give those Slytherin b******* whatever advantage he can!"

One of the Weasleys fell off his broom. Luckily he was only hovering a short distance above the ground.

"_Snape's_ refereeing?" he spluttered through a mouthful of mud. "When's he ever refereed a Quidditch match? He's not going to be fair if we might overtake Slytherin."

The rest of the team landed beside the twin to complain, too.

"It's not _my_ fault," said Wood.

"That may be so, but we've got to complain to someone, and you're most convenient," the second twin said angrily.

As Harry made his way to Gryffindor tower (he had homework), the rest of the team hung back to harass Wood. Harry entered the common room to a strange scene. Susan was whooping Hermione's arse at wizard chess while Luna watched both the match and Dean and Seamus who were sitting by the window, whispering. Hermione was verbally abusing Susan and running her fingers through her hair, unable to find a move to get her out of this tough spot.

"Calm down, Hermione, it's just a game," Susan said nervously.

"Just a game? JUST A GAME? I've never lost at anything in my life, and I'm most certainly not going to lose at this!" Hermione shouted.

Harry snuck past them and ran up the stairs to the door. He slammed the door shut behind him, panting hard. Ron was lying on his bed smiling and staring blankly up at the ceiling.

"Ron? Are you okay?"

"Huh? Oh, hey there Harry," Ron said distractedly.

"Something on your mind?"

"Guess you could say that," Ron mumbled.

"What?"

"Alright, I'll tell you, but you have to keep quiet about it."

"Of course," Harry promised.

"Right then. I- I hit Lavender."

"About time someone hit her, she never shuts up."

"No, Harry, not that kind of hit. I did _it_ with her. Sex."

Harry's mind struggled to grasp that for a few moments.

"You did _that_ with Lavender?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Yeah, but you can't tell anyone. If Hermione found out, she'd never shut up about it."

"Shouldn't you be more worried about Dumbledore and them finding out? They could expel you!"

"No they won't. The only one who really cares about that sort of thing is McGonagall, and that's because she's a prude. The worst she'd do is scold me."

"What," Harry asked flatly, so surprised that he forgot the question mark.

"I'm basing this assumption mostly off the punishment Fred and George are working off for sleeping with the Patil twins."

"What?" Harry repeated, though not quite so stunned as before.

"Happened just a couple weeks ago. The punishment is light enough… so why not? It's not hurting anyone."

Harry doubted that.

Back in the common room, Hermione had dumped the chessboard over.

"No fair, Hermione," Susan moaned.

"Quit whining. You deserve to lose once in a while," Hermione growled.

"But I never win! Do you realize how bad that is for my self-esteem?"

"To hell with your self-esteem. Luna, did she lose or not?"

"If you're asking about our bet, it was that you had to _win_ the match. You didn't. The only result was that neither of you won. You lost the bet, Hermione."

"D*** it, Luna! I'm not going on a date with that creep! He's creepy, perverted, and snobbish."

"You still have to do it. You didn't win, which means we won, so give up," Luna said wickedly.

At that moment Neville toppled into the common room. How he had managed to climb through the portrait hole was anyone's guess, because his legs had been stuck together with what they recognized at once as the Leg-Locker Curse. He must have had to bunny hop all the way up to Gryffindor tower.

Hermione, eager for a distraction, rushed over to help him.

"Hold still, Neville," she whispered and cast the countercurse. Neville's legs sprang apart and he got to his feet, trembling.

"What happened?" Luna asked him, leading him over to sit with Seamus and Dean, who were still rolling with laughter.

"Malfoy," said Neville shakily. "I met him outside the library. I sort of dropped my bag on his foot and he cursed me."

"You see!" Hermione implored her two friends. "I can't go on a date with him!"

"No one wants to go on a date with me," Neville said, wallowing in self-pity.

"Imagine that," Hermione said through clenched teeth. "But I was talking about Malfoy! He's a wicked, cruel boy! How could you expect me to go on a date with him?"

Susan and Luna smiled at each other and shrugged.

"Why does this sort of thing always happen to me?" Neville asked no one in particular.

"You've got to stand up to him, Neville!" Hermione said, trying to cheer him up.

"I don't want more trouble," he mumbled.

"You're worth twelve of Malfoy," Luna said. "The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, not Dragongout, right? And there's nothing Malfoy can say or do to change that."

Neville's lips twitched in a weak smile as he got to his feet. He was about to leave when an idea seemed to strike him.

"Here, Luna. Thanks for cheering me up. Professor McGonagall gave it to me, but I'm allergic to chocolate."

He handed her a Chocolate Toad box and staggered tiredly up the stairs to the dorm room, passing Harry on the way up. Luna opened the box as Hermione muttered about Neville being ungrateful to her.

"Hey, it's Dumbledore!" Luna said happily, showing the card to her friends.

"What's it say about him?" Susan asked tiredly.

"_Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, leading to the victory of the allies in the second World War, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicholas Flamel. Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and ten pin bowling._"

"Nicholas Flamel?" Harry asked curiously.

"Yes," Luna answered, "Nicholas Flamel. He was Dumbledore's alchemy partner."

"Funny. Dumbledore mentioned that Flamel made the mirror of Ytili-sommat."

"The mirror of Ytilibaniattanu?" Hermione asked excitedly.

"Yeah. I found it the other night."

"Not in the castle!"

"Course it was in the castle. Where else would it be?"

"The mirror is here?"

"Dumbledore said it was moved."

"He moved it, huh?" Hermione asked disappointedly.

"Why's it so important to you? It's just one giant rip-off."

"The mirror of Ytilibaniattanu is, according to legend, the last great defense of the Philosopher's Stone!" Hermione exclaimed.

Susan and Luna gasped. Harry just sort of looked at her funny.

"What?" he asked, wondering just how many times that day he'd said "what."

"The Philosopher's Stone!"

"I'm sorry, but what is a philanthropist's stone?"

"The Philosopher's Stone is a powerful magical artifact! Supposedly, it is made of the same material that created the universe!"

"And supposedly it's stored in the mirror of… something."

"Ytilibaniattanu."

"How the hell do you remember that?" Harry asked.

"Photographic memory. Do you realize what this means?"

"No."

"Nearly unlimited power was right near here! I can't believe it! I missed out on a chance to study its properties!" Hermione wailed.

"Get real, Hermione. Why would they send something like that here?"

Hermione was silent for a moment.

"Of course!" she burst out jubilantly. "That's what the three-headed dog is guarding!"

"Three-headed dog?" Dean asked.

"Yes, what's that about?" Susan joined him.

"Err-" Hermione looked at Harry and Luna, then back at Dean and Susan. "The dog on the third floor guarding a trapdoor."

"There's a three-headed dog on the third floor?" Susan murmured.

"Yeah. Sorry we kept you guys in the dark," Harry said.

"Did you know?" Dean asked Seamus, who was trying to sneak up to the dormitory.

"Sorry, Dean. We all agreed not to talk about it."

"Who else knows?"

"The six of us, Ron, and Blaise Zabini," Harry said.

"And Lavender," Ron added as he came down the stairs. "It's not that well kept of a secret."

"Ron! How did Lavender find out?" Hermione asked, glaring.

"It sort of slipped out," Ron muttered.

"How the hell do you let something like that slip out?" Hermione asked furiously. "I need some pumpkin juice."

She took a sip and instantly collapsed.

"She's been so stressed lately. We've started carrying around some Five-Hour Rest medicine," Luna explained as Susan laughed nervously.

"Works for me," Harry said with a shrug. "Let's try not to tell anyone else, okay? Ron, tell Lavender not to tell anyone as soon as you can."

"Whatever," Ron said nonchalantly, moving to fill a mug of pumpkin juice from the barrel in the corner, "By the way, has anyone seen Scabbers recently?"

(%)

Harry knew, when they wished him good luck outside the locker rooms the next afternoon, that Seamus and Dean were wondering whether they'd ever see him alive again. This wasn't what you'd call comforting. Harry hardly heard a word of Wood's self-glorifying speech as he pulled on his Quidditch robes and picked up his Nimbus Two Thousand.

His friends, meanwhile, had found a place in the stands in the stands next to Neville, who couldn't understand why they looked so grim and worried, or why they all had wands in hand. Little did Harry know that they had been practicing the Leg-Locker and Jelly-Legs Curses. They'd gotten the idea from Malfoy using it on Neville, and were ready to curse Snape if he showed any sign of wanting to hurt Harry.

"Now don't forget, it's _Locomotor Mortis_," Luna whispered to Ron as she slipped her wand up her sleeve.

"I _know_," Ron snapped angrily.

Back in the locker room, Wood had taken Harry aside.

"Don't want to pressure you, Seeker, but if we ever need an early capture of the Snitch, it's now. Finish the game before Snape can favor the other team too much."

"The whole school's out there!" said one of the Weasleys, peering out of the door. "Even – blimey – Dumbledore's figured out where the stands are! He's sitting out there!"

Harry's heart did a somersault.

"_Dumbledore_?" he said, dashing to the door to make sure.

"First years," George whispered to Fred, "They never belief anything you tell them."

Perhaps it was Dumbledore's attendance, but it was certainly truth that Snape looked pissed as the teams marched onto the field, something that Susan noticed, too.

"I've never seen Snape look so angry," she told Hermione.

"Argh!" Ron cried out in pain.

Malfoy had yanked on Ron's tightly wrapped scarf.

"Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn't see anyone under that pile of rags."

Malfoy grinned broadly at Crabbe and Goyle.

"Wonder how long What's-his-name Potter's going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?"

Percy stood up silently and moved to the Ravenclaw section.

"Oh, I forgot that you don't have any money," Malfoy called after him spitefully.

Ron ground his teeth and watched as Snape awarded the opposing team a penalty because one of the Weasleys had hit a Bludger away from Wood. Blaise also looked uncertainly at Malfoy.

"You know how they choose people for the Gryffindor team?" said Malfoy loudly a few minutes later, as Snape awarded Hufflepuff another penalty because one of the Hufflepuff Chasers had agreed to sleep with him. "It's people they feel sorry for. See, there's Potter, who's got no parents, then there's the Weasley's who've got no money – you should be on the team, Longarse, you've got no chance of success."

Neville went bright red but turned in his seat to face Malfoy.

"I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy," he stammered.

Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Ron howled with laughter.

"Longarse, if brains were gold you'd be poorer than Weasley."

Ron turned and said, "I'm warning you, Malfoy – one more word about my family –"

"Ron!" said Dean suddenly, "Harry -!"

"What? Where? When? How?"

Harry had suddenly gone into a spectacular dive, which drew gasps and cheers from the crowd.

"You're in luck, Weasley, Potter's obviously spotted some money on the ground! said Malfoy.

Ron snapped. Before Malfoy knew what was happening, Ron was on top of him, wrestling him to the ground, and Dean and Seamus had taken on Malfoy's two beefy bodyguards. Neville hesitated, then clambered over the back of his seat to help. Blaise wavered for a minute before joining the fray.

"Come on, Harry!" Luna screamed, leaping onto her seat and hoisting up her shirt.

The boys stopped tussling long enough to enjoy the view, then went back to punching, biting, and gouging.

Up in the air, Snape turned on his broomstick just in time to see something scarlet shoot past him, missing him by inches – the next second, Harry had pulled out of the dive, his arm raised in triumph, the Snitch clasped in his hand.

The Gryffindor stands erupted; it had to be a record, no one could remember the Snitch ever being caught so quickly.

"Dean! Seamus! Ron! Where are you? The games over! We won!" Luna shouted, dancing up and down on her seat and hugging Pavarti Patil, who had been weeping in the front row.

Lee Jordan, now confidant that Gryffindor had won, was practically singing to the crowd. "Take that, you losers! Finder Diggory denied! I'm definitely getting some of that Johnson!"

Professor McGonagall was so happy, she didn't even scold him. Harry jumped off his broom, a foot from the ground. He'd done it – the game was over; it had barely lasted five minutes. The party, on the other hand, would last hours.

(%)

It was at some point during the celebrations, no was really sure exactly when, that the Weasley Twins suggested that they go to the Forbidden Forest. When the students were assembled outside Hagrid's cabin, they divulged the nature of their plan.

"It's like this," Fred said, "in the forest, there is a rare species of mushroom from which we can make the drinker fall in love with the person who made the potion. The first person to find one and bring it back here will get this very special prize from us!"

"Yeah!" Ernie Macmillan roared drunkenly, "Hufflepuff for the win!"

"That so?" Ron cried, "We'll see about that!"

"None of you stand a chance!" Malfoy said thickly through the wad of tissues plugging his bloody nose.

"Malfoy, you prig!" Ron ejaculated (minds out of the gutter. It's an old-timey word meaning shouted. I'll be using it a lot in the future, so don't forget). "Who invited you?"

"No one tells me what I can't win! You're just afraid I'll beat you losers!"

"You're on, Malfoy!" Seamus said. "You talk the talk, but can you walk the walk?"

"I could beat you sorry excuses for wizards with one arm in a cast!"

"Right, then!" said George happily. "We'll need you to form into five groups of two. Choose your partner wisely!"

"This is the best gig we plotted since that one with the Armenian hot sauce, the newt, and the toilet seat," Fred whispered.

After some shuffling and voting they arranged themselves into five teams.

Team 1 consisted of Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas. Team 2 had Harry Potter and Justin Finch-Fletchley paired up. Team 3 contained Ernie MacMillan and Cho Chang. For Team 4, Theodore Nott and Draco Malfoy were together. On Team 5 were Susan Bones and Luna Lovegood.

"Harry Potter and Justin Finch-Fletchley. I can see some difficulties there. And let's not forget Ernie MacMillan and Cho Chang. He hit on her seventeen times before she began breaking fingers. How's that hand, Ernie?" Lee Jordan asked.

"It f****** hurts, but it should be okay."

"What will you do with the potion if you win?"

"We'll see if I get any more broken fingers."

"Good luck, Ernie! You'll need it."

"Have you got all the magic cameras set up, Lee?" Fred asked.

"Of course," Lee assured him. "And we've got plenty of spare magic batteries for the magic flashlights."

"What about magic popcorn?"

"Got it covered."

"What does it turn 'em into?"

"What do you mean?"

"What does the popcorn turn them into?"

"It turns them blue."

"Blue? Blue! That's it? No Synhissasia spells?"

"Nope."

"No Aviarimorphus?"

"Uh-uh."

"No depantiators?"Fred roared.

"Sorry. Forgot how."

"How do you forget _that_ spell?"

"I guess it's 'cuz I never studied."

"George and I'll have to reteach you that one later, then. I'll see what I can put together for now."

Malfoy whacked Harry weakly in the back of the head.

"Scared, Potter?" he jeered.

"Of your breath, Malfoy."

"Ha! Now I know your weakness! You better watch your back, Potter!"

"Piss off, d*******."

"I'll get you for that!"

"Right. Have fun."

Fred and George ushered the competitors to the beginnings of five trails.

"As you can see, the competition is about to begin," Jordan commentated. "Who will walk away with the love potion? Place your bets in Hagrid's outhouse. The contest will begin in three… two… one…Go!"

The students set off at a medium speed and tripping a couple times, because they each had a leg tied to their partner's.

"For your enjoyment, we've set up cameras in the Forbidden Forest. Broadcasting by MBBC, the Magic British Broadcasting Corporation, _Nation shall speak Latin unto nation_."

**Camera 17a Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott**

"Got any good ideas, Draco?" Theodore whispered.

"Of course I do! It's sheer genius!"

"What is it?"

"What do you mean _what is it_? Why do I have to come up with all the brilliant plans, huh?"

"You're—Well, you're just so good at it."

"And that means I have to do everything?"

"No! No, I'm just not very good at that sort of thing. You're the smart one."

"I know, I know, I'm awesome."

"So what _is_ the plan?"

"…"

"What?"

"Will you shut up and let me think?"

**Camera 43c Susan Bones and Luna Lovegood**

"Hey. Where are we?"

"What do you mean, _where are we_?"

"I don't think we should have left the path, Susan."

"What happened to, _it's this way, follow me_?"

"You know better than to trust me."

"I'm tied to your leg."

"Susan! I—"

"What?"

"Holy f****** s***!" Luna whispered.

"Luna!"

"Ssh! Susan, can I ask you two things?"

"Yes…" Susan said slowly.

"Is it your period?"

"No, it's not, you know that."

"Just making sure."

"What's the other question?"

"Can animals smell when it's your time of the month?"

"I think Hermione mentioned it, yes."

"Okay."

"Why do you ask?"

"I actually have a third question."

"Ask away."

"Do werewolves have a good sense of smell?"

**Camera 9a Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan**

"Dean, where'd you learn to shoot?"

"Huh?"

"You're so good with guns. You must have learned somewhere."

"Uh… NPA?"

"You're a member of the NPA? What's that stand for?"

"Uh… National Rifle Association?"

"Wouldn't that be NRA?"

"… the P stands for an old word meaning rifle."

"That makes sense. Cool. You ever shoot anyone?"

Dean sighed.

**Camera 713xz Cho Chang and Ernie MacMillan**

"Get off my foot!"

"How can I help it? Your feet are so big!"

"Only compared to your tyke-boots!"

"Are you saying I'm not manly?"

"No, but you aren't."

"I take umbrage at that! Let me show you how manly I am!"

"You pull it out, I rip it off."

**Camera i Harry Potter and Justin Finch-Fletchley**

"… but Padma and Pavarti are conflicted and unable to make up their minds. By the sound of it, there are any number of people willing to share a bed with either of them, but Fred and George are, well, Fred and George. While we're on the subject, I haven't heard any talk that said that you…"

"I haven't."

"Oh. So sorry to hear that."

"I'm alright."

"If you aren't going out with anyone, then maybe you might consider…"

"Who?"

"Well… me."

"You?"

"Yeah."

"You're a dude."

"So?"

"You're a poof!"

"C'mon, that's sort of offensive."

"You're gay?"

"What's wrong with that?"

"The internet is swarming with gay Harry Potter stories that pair him with Ron, Snape, Dumbledore, Sirius… Do we really need to start this with Justin, too?"

"I guess not… If you're no interested… okay, I'll leave you alone."

"Thank you! What's that?"

"What's what?"

"What?"

"What's what?" Justin repeated.

"You're confusing me!" yelled Harry frustratedly.

"Reconsidering me as an option?"

"What? No! What's that in the clearing up ahead?"

"Looks like two people in black cloaks."

"Get down, let's sneak up and see what they're doing."

-*- For those of you who haven't figured it out, I got the idea for this from volume 5 of a popular manga.

Snape stood in the clearing, facing Quirrell, who was trembling violently with fear.

"…d-don't know why you wanted t-to meet me here of all p-places, Severus…"

"Cut the crap, Quirrell," said Snape coldly. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Sorcerer's Stone, after all. Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?"

"B-b-b-b-b-but Severus, I –"

"You don't want me as an enemy, Quirrell," said Snape, taking a step toward him.

"I-I don't know what you –"

"You know perfectly well what I mean."

An owl swooped overhead and hooted, blocking out some of Snape's next words.

"—your little bit of hocus-pocus. I'm waiting."

"B-but I d-d-d-d-don't –"

"Very well," Snape cut in. "We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie."

Harry and Justin returned to the edge of the forest, where several of the teams were already waiting.

"We won! We won!" Susan was cheering, dancing in a circle with Luna.

"As soon as Cho gets back, we'll have her stir up a couple vials of potion," said George.

"We're really sorry, Harry, we had no idea he was gay," Jordan apologized.

"Would you all cut it out! Why is it such a big deal?" said Justin, annoyed.

"It's because most people only have heterosexual or homosexual characters, and only rarely do they have both. Oftentimes they won't show any strife between the two if they do because they can't admit to the issue even existing." Dean blinked. "What just happened?"

"I think you just had a big out-of-character monologue. Probably the author or something," said Seamus.

"Author?"

"Like God, except he's got no life or plot-writing ability."

Next time on HPMF:

Author: I feel vaguely insulted.

Harry: Don't be! At least you've got some originality.

Seamus: Yeah, at least you're not writing a commentary of My Immortal.

Luna: Pleinair, that would suck.


	17. Chapter 17: Where did that  come from?

I do not own Family Guy, Futurama, or American Dad.

Good news, everyone! After this infernal chapter, there will only be two more! Then I can finally get to work on something more important: Part Two! I also have a little practical advice: Romania is not an ideal vacation spot in winter.

Chapter 17: Dragons at the Beach

"Have you seen Hermione Granger?"

"Yes," replied Harry.

"Isn't she gorgeous?"

"In what way?"

"I mean, she got curves in all the right places!"

"About a foot below or half a foot above where it's normal for them to be?"

"I'm going to ask her out."

"Good luck, Malfoy! Seamus, where's the camera?" asked Harry.

"I've got it here," said Seamus, waving the magical video camera.

Malfoy walked happily across the hall, to where Hermione was sitting with Susan and Luna at the Ravenclaw table, and began to talk to Hermione. Hermione stood up and slapped Malfoy full across the face and stomped out of the hall, Luna following close behind. Malfoy gazed after her, looking starstruck.

"Brilliant, eh?" one of the twins said.

"Brilliant," agreed Harry.

"Thank Susan and Luna, they're the ones who did it. Hey, Seamus! I'll give you four sickles for a copy of that!"

"Done!" said Seamus, shaking hands with the twin.

"Wasn't that horrible! That lady turned him down so ungraciously, despite his gentlemanly actions toward her!"

"Put a sock in it, Elegante," said Fred, pushing the ninny out of his way.

"Did you see the look on Malfoy's face?" Seamus asked, still laughing gleefully.

"It was priceless! I thought he was going to commit suicide right then and there."

"Look, he's leaving. Let's follow."

Harry and Seamus traipsed out of the hall, trying to look inconspicuous.

"Wait up, Harry!" shouted Susan, who then stood up and jogged over.

"Great work with that love potion, Susan. You and Luna have outdone yourselves this time."

"Thank you, Seamus. It's nice to be appreciated for once."

"Let's follow them, it's bound to get better," laughed Seamus.

"Sorry Seamus," apologized Harry, "Hagrid wanted to talk to me at his hut in a few minutes. As much as I'd like to, I can't right now."

"That's a pity. Oh well, see you later."

Seamus scurried off, camera in hand to see where Malfoy and Hermione had got to.

When Harry knocked on the door of the gamekeepers hut an hour later, his cloak still smoldering from the river of lava he had to cross in the maze, he was surprised to see the curtains were closed. Hagrid called "Who is it?" Before he let him in, and then shut the door quickly behind him.

It was stifling hot inside. Even though it was such a warm day, there was a blazing fire in the grate. Hagrid made him tea and offered him stoat sandwiches, which he refused.

"So – yeh wanted to ask me somethin'?"

"Yes," said Harry. There was no point beating around the bush. "I was wondering if you could- open-a-window- tell me what's guarding the Philosopher's Stone apart from Fluffy."

Hagrid frowned at him.

"Harry, I'm smashed, not stupid," he said.

"Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might not want to tell me, but you can't resist my puppy-dog eyes."

Harry's eyes glistened with unshed tears and his lower lip stuck out, trembling.

Hagrid looked into Harry's eyes.

Harry's eyes glistened with unshed tears and his lower lip stuck out, trembling.

Hagrid looked into Harry's eyes.

Harry's eyes glistened with unshed tears and his lower lip stuck out, trembling.

Hagrid looked into Harry's eyes.

Harry's eyes glistened with unshed tears and his lower lip stuck out, trembling.

Hagrid's face softened.

"All righ', just cut that out, would yeh? How do yeh know about Fluffy? I probably wouldn' get it out o' yeh anyway... let's see… the headmaster borrowed Fluffy from me… then some o' the teachers did enchantments… there was some bother with a lot of stonecutters and a whole ton o' metal an' chains. Professor Snape carried up a ton o' potions…"

"_Snape_?"

"Yeah – why's that so odd?"

"Nothing's odd about it- could you _please_ open a window?"

"Did I fart?"

"I hope not, besides, it's a freaking furnace in here!"

"Can't, Harry, sorry," said Hagrid. Harry noticed him glance at the fire. Harry looked at it, too.

"Hagrid – what's _that_?"

"That's – er… a dragon egg."

"They make good omelets?"

"No! I won it las' night. I was down in the village pub havin' a few barrels an' got into a game o' cribbage with a strange fella'. Think he was quite glad ter get rid o' it, ter be honest."

"Why do think that?"

"I think he might of thought they were illegal or sommat."

"They aren't?"

"I can't imagine why they would be," Hagrid said, shrugging.

"Err- Hagrid. You _do_ realize you live in a wooden house, right?"

.

So now Harry had something else to worry about: what might happen to Hagrid if anyone found out he had a potentially illegal dragon his hovel.

"Where the hell did my lazy weekends go?" Harry sighed, as evening after evening he struggled through all the extra homework they were getting. It was driving everyone nuts.

Then, one breakfast time, Hedwig brought Harry another note from Hagrid. It said:

_Dear Harry,_

_Workplace inspection is coming up and I was wondering if you could look after my 'breakfast' for a bit. Stop by the hut this afternoon._

Rather unwillingly, Harry went that afternoon to Hagrid's shack. He knocked politely on the door and made one last effort to empty his cloak of moat water, wringing it in his hands. Hagrid thumped over to the door and opened it a crack.

"Good ter see yeh, Harry," he said happily.

"Hagrid, about the egg…" started Harry.

"I have great news, Harry! It's hatched!"

"What?"

"It's hatched! Jus' wait'll yeh see 'im. I've named 'im Norbert."

Hagrid backed up to let Harry enter. Inside, the dragon was curled up on the bed. As Harry stepped a bit closer, a stream of flame erupted from the snoring dragonling's snout. Luckily for Harry, his cloak was still soaked from the fall in the moat, and he didn't catch fire.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Hagrid murmured. He reached out a hand and stroked the dragonling's head.

It growled contentedly in its sleep, rolling over to put its belly to the roof.

"Hagrid, how fast do dragons grow?" asked Harry nervously.

"Norbert's a Norwegian Ridgeback, so… pretty fast. It's so nice of you ter look after 'im."

"Hagrid, I can't look after a dragon!"

"Well, why not? He's just a baby, after all."

"A baby dragon! Besides, I'm sure it's against the rules in some way..."

But Hagrid was too busy admiring Norbert to listen. He reached out his great big fingers and began to tickle Norbert's belly gently.

.

"—And that's about when it set Hagrid's bed on fire," finished Harry.

"Brilliant," whispered Ron. "Bloody brilliant."

"You know, dragons really _are_ illegal," said Susan.

"I didn't know for sure. For that matter, why do you know? Got aspirations to take care of your very own dragon? I can arrange it."

"Goodness, no," said Susan, waving her hands, "My mum's a judge, so I hear about this sort of thing all the time at home."

They were in the Great Hall, enjoying that night's dinner of shepherd's pie and roast pork. Harry had piled up a ton of crisps on his plate and was eating them as he told his story. The meat in the shepherd's pie was just right, neither too dry nor too soggy. Ron, of course, was eating with his hands, and Hermione looked about ready to explode with anger at his bad table manners. Seamus, in contrast, had divided his plate into quarters which he slowly rotated to eat from, one containing the shepherd's pie, one the pork, one some sprouts, and the last, milk. Don't ask why, but it was the smoothest, richest, most succulent milk you ever- Oh, sorry, got pulled off on a tangent there.

"So where're you keeping it?" asked Seamus.

"In that girl's bathroom that has the closed sign on the door."

"Ooh, Harry, that's probably not a good idea," said Luna.

"Why not? Why can't he do that?" asked Ron.

"Moaning Myrtle," answered Luna, accompanied by a nod from Susan and Hermione.

"Moaning Myrtle? Who's that?" asked Seamus.

"She's the ghost that haunts that bathroom. It's closed because no one can stand going in there."

"That, at least, makes sense," sighed Ron.

"Harry, you can't keep a dragon in a bathroom for long," reasoned Susan.

"Why? The only person I've ever seen go in is Neville."

"That's not what I—Really?"

"Yup. Twice."

"Huh. Well, that's Neville for you."

"Pass the potatoes, Dean."

"Sure thing, man."

.

The next morning, the students discovered that the sun was up when they awoke. It was winter, and they were not used to the sun rising so early. The Gryffindors rushed to the windows and looked down on the green grass growing below. That was certainly not right. In winter, snow is on the ground, not elderly teachers in speedos. Indeed, a few of the teachers were lying on towels positioned close to the edge of the lake. Actually, that would be incorrect. It was not the lake. It was the Black Sea.

Percy opened the door and said "good morning" before informing them of this development.

"Every year, sometime during the winter, the Headmaster teleports the castle to some remote location for a vacation. Students are given the week off to relax and explore. This year's vacation destination was picked to be the Black Sea, and that's where we are now. You can do whatever you want, but don't go too far off. At the end of the week, we'll be headed home, and we don't want to leave anyone behind."

"Not for lack of trying, though, eh?" asked a twin.

"Last year you tried to ditch us in Hamburg so we wouldn't ruin your chances of becoming a prefect," said the other.

"What a kind and loving brother."

"Enough, you two—Whoa! Hey!"

Fred and George each grabbed him by an arm and drug him from the room.

They stood in shocked silence for a moment before Seamus suddenly cried, "What're we waiting for?"

The boys tossed back their covers and began digging through their trunks. Ron came up with a pair of faded maroon trunks. Dean produced a black speedo and Seamus, a pair of longer brown trunks. It was a few moments before Harry remembered that he had no swimsuit and said as much.

"You could use mine," suggested Neville, who hadn't moved.

"I couldn't. If I took yours, what would you wear?"

"Madam Zabini didn't heal by broken leg and said that wearing a cast for awhile would teach me a lesson."

"Oh. Thanks, Neville."

Harry changed into Neville's yellow and grey trunks before rushing downstairs. He rushed through breakfast and ran outside, where half the school was already on the beach. He tossed his shirt on Terry's sand castle and ran to meet a wave. The water broke over him and he kept running until he was up to his chest in water. He was enjoying himself so much that he didn't even notice Hermione scolding Ron, who was pretending to drown himself.

Harry spent most of the day at the beach, not because he enjoyed swimming (in fact, Harry didn't know how to swim. His aunt and uncle wanted to be rid of him and hoped he'd drown someday by accident), but because he enjoyed looking at the girls in their bathing suits. He took special interest in Lavendar Brown's blue bikini, and Cho Chang's white four-piece. He was just beginning to drool over Katie's swimsuit when he saw something behind her that would have made him go white, were he not a dull bronze colour from some of Fred's tanning lotion. It was Norbert.

The dragon was stalking a crab which scuttled away whenever Norbert came too close. Harry got ahold of himself and nonchalantly made his way over to Norbert. He picked the dragon up and wrapped it in a towel. Norbert was not happy about it, and croaked at him. Harry ignored the dragon's complaints and carried it to a stand of trees nearby. Relieved to be away from prying eyes, Harry let Norbert crawl out of the towel. Norbert sniffed a tree, then raised his leg. The smell of melting wood registered negatively on Harry's nostrils, but he wasn't the only one to smell it.

"Aphew!" sneezed Luna.

"Luna! What are you doing out here? Why aren't you down at the beach?" asked Harry, pushing aside the bushes.

In the clearing were four or five girls in the middle of relieving themselves, all of whom were greatly embarrassed and angered. Harry fled, leaving their angry shouts behind him. Predictably, Norbert had chosen that moment to sneak off. Harry returned to the beach to look for any sign of Norbert. He didn't find Norbert, but he did find Hagrid, who was sunning his pale hide in a manner that made him look like a cross between Santa Claus and the Ghost of Christmas Present.

"'Ello, Harry! Enjoyin' yer time off, are ye?"

"Hagrid! I've got some bad news!"

Hagrid's face fell.

"They're not out of rum, are they?" he asked weakly.

"No, it's about Norbert—"

"Don't say another word, Harry. I know what yer goin' ter say, and I've given it a lot o' thought. Yer right. I can't keep 'im, he's too young and I'm too hairy. If ye think I shouldn't keep 'im, ye can release 'im if ye like."

Hagrid, you have no idea how helpful that is," said Harry.

Harry left Hagrid and was just looking around for Seamus when Luna caught up to him.

"Peeping again, were you? I said I didn't mind, but that doesn't mean the other girls shared my opinion. You might want to- What's wrong?" she asked, finally noticing the strained look on his face.

"Norbert's disappeared. Hagrid said I can release him into the wild, but if he wanders about here, he might get hurt."

"Harry, that's so… responsible of you. Didn't expect this, not at all. I think Ron might be able to help, in any case."

It was a few minutes, but just as Harry had almost had enough of running around from person to person for quick snatches of conversation, they found Ron, who was carrying a rolled up beach towel.

"Hey, Harry! Know why making love with Lavender on the beach is like making love with a pretty girl on the beach?" asked Ron.

Harry's brow knit in confusion.

"It's f***ing close to water," shouted Ron, laughing.

Harry and Luna looked at each other and shrugged.

"Luna, there's been something I wanted to ask you."

"What is it?"

"How the hell can you walk around in the sunlight during the day? You're a vampire right? And here you are on the beach in a bathing suit! Why aren't you dead?"

"I think we're getting a little distracted from the plot here, can we get back on topic?" suggested Harry.

"In a minute. Ron, forget everything you know about vampires. We have none of the weaknesses normally attributed to us. Sun, holy water, crosses, all those things do not affect us. I could drink holy water on a sunny day while saying the Our Father and be right as rain."

"Back to the story now. Ron, how can you help us?"

"So you could drink holy water, walk into a church uninvited and take a piss on the door mat?"

"Theoretically speaking, yes, but I can't see why I would ever-"

"That would be so awesome!"

"Ron!" shouted Harry. "We need your help! HOW CAN YOU HELP US?"

"I haven't the slightest idea. By the way, you remember how my brother Charlie takes care of dragons?"

"I don't think you've ever mentioned it."

"Haven't I? Anyways, my brother Charlie takes care of dragons here, and has come to visit me and my brothers! Isn't that awesome?"

"Thank you, Ron! Take us to him, whenever you're ready!"

Ron raised an eyebrow, then went back to talking with Luna. Harry gave an exasperated sigh before giving up. He shuffled over to a picnic blanket and sat down to eat. Susan came and sat by him.

"Hi, Harry! How are you?"

"Great. Just great. I've got a baby dragon to deal with and my opportunity to foist it over on Ron's brother is being ruined by his lack of interest."

"That's funny. Charlie didn't strike me as the kind of person to just blow someone off like that."

"You've met him?" asked Harry hopefully.

"Yes. Just today, actually. He's over there, talking to my sister."

"The guy with Weasley hair?"

"Who else could he be?"

"Ah. Good point."

Harry walked over to the pair, his feet feeling like the soles were shedding.

"Are you Charlie Weasley?"

"Yes."

"I know your brother Ron an-"  
>"You know my little bro? Hey, cool! Hang with me."<p>

Harry, not knowing how to respond to this, sat down.

"This is my girlfriend, Niño, and she's, like, totally awesome."

"That's nice. I have a small-"

"Want a hot dog, bro? We've got mustard."

"Yes, please. You see, there's this drag-"

"Relish?"

"No thanks. Thank you. Okay, now wh-"

"My little bro hasn't been mean to you, has he? He can be a bit antisocial at times."

"No. There'sadragon,yousee,that'srunning'roundwildhereandmightgethurt. You got that?"

"Say again."

"There's a baby dragon, you see, that's running around wild here and might get hurt."

"I'm more worried about all these students. There's not much more deceiving and unpredictable than a baby dragon. I'll keep an eye out for it. Catsup?"

.

"My bro said he found the dragon," said Ron. "He's going to help it find a new home. Just think, Harry, that without my help, that dragon might not have caused such an entertaining afternoon."

Harry was about to make a snide remark when Hermione spoke up.

"Oh, balls."

Everyone within earshot stared. Draco was standing close by with a box of gourmet chocolates and a bunch of cowslips.

"My love! My sweet! My arms ache to hold you to my chest in heartfelt-" Draco cut off as a tout smacked into the side of his face.

He was out cold and the students on the surrounding blankets were laughing themselves silly as Hermione passed the fish back to Lee, who was manning the grill.

"I'm beginning to suspect that Malfoy's affection is more than just a little fishy," she said, turning her glare on Susan and Luna, who were twiddling their thumbs or whistling or doing some other frivolous thing that drew attention to them inadvertently. Another cheer rose up.

Next time on HPMF:

Harry: The year is almost over and we haven't resolved the plot yet!

Snape: Don't worry, I'm sure it will resolve itself.

Harry: What are you doing here? Help! Seamus! Luna!

Seamus: Hold on, Harry, I'm coming!


	18. Chapter 18: Sacrifices

I do not own the Family Circus, Foxtrot, or Garfield.

Chapter 18: Race to the Finish

In books to come, Harry would never quite remember how he had managed to get through his exams when he half expected Seamus would blow up the castle at any moment.

It was sweltering hot, especially in the large classroom where they did their written papers. They had been given special, new quills for the exams, which had been bewitched with an Anti-Cheating spell.

They had practical exams as well. Professor West called them in one by one into his class to see if they could make a flamingo do a tango by itself. Professor McGonagall wanted them to turn a mouse into a rat. Snape made them all nervous, breathing down their necks while they tried to make nitroglycerine. Neville was given a preemptive fail so he wouldn't hurt himself.

Harry did the best he could, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in his forehead, which had been bothering him ever since chapter sixteen. The exams were really getting to him. He ignored Susan's suggestion that he drink more water to help with his headaches. The last exam, History of Magic, was okay. They had to do a class reproduction of the battle of Hinklesworth. Harry got to be the mage knight battalion that crushed the peasantry played by Neville.

"That was far easier than I thought it would be," said Hermione, who had, of course, done perfectly.

Hermione always liked to go over their exam papers afterward. Harry was surprised to note that she was a more common sight these days. After dodging her with a muttered 'got to see a man about a dog,' he went to Hagrid's. After crawling under the last row of razorvine, he knocked on Hagrid's door.

Hagrid opened the door and said weakly, "'Ello, Harry."

"Hagrid, what's the matter? Still sad about Norbert?"

Hagrid was entirely sober.

"No, it's not that. Dumbledore cancelled our golf game for tonight. The minister of magic wants his help, so he won't be back until tomorrow."

"Dumbledore's leaving?"

"Fer France. Goodness knows why the minister's there. Getting through customs can be right annoying there."

"Sorry, Hagrid. Gotta go!" said Harry, rushing back out the door.

"But ye only jus' got 'ere. Ah, well. Bye, Harry!"

Harry burst into the common room, where Ron was snogging Lavender as Hermione studiously read her book on lighthouse tending upside down. (To be more specific, it's a book about tending lighthouses while upside down. The book, however, was right side up.)

"Dumbledore! Golf! France!" said Harry.

"What? asked Dean, who was sitting by the fire with Seamus.

"Dumbledore has gone to France! Snape's going to strike tonight!"

"Not that thing you were talking about before! Snape after the stone?" said Hermione.

"That's just silly. Anyone can see that he's just being set up as a false villain to distract us from the real villain," proclaimed Luna.

"Like who?"

"Marmosets."

"Come again?" asked Hermione.

"That's what she said," giggled Luna.

"Sorry?"

"That's what _he_ said."

"Would you stop doing that?"

"That's what you said," said Ron.

"Of course it's what I said," snapped Hermione. "Now shut up, the both of you. Harry, what evidence is there?"

"Snape's a lousy bugger who hates us all and has every reason to do other horrible things," said Harry with no hesitation whatsoever.

"I'll accept that."

"There's only one thing we can do-"

"Steal the stone first in a terribly heroic and dramatic manner," suggested Luna.

"That'll work, too, I guess."

"It'll be just the nine of us," whispered Luna. "Like in the Lord of the Rings."

"I think I can convince Blaise to come with us," said Harry.

"Ten, then."

"I told three more people," said Lavender, drawing groans from all others present.

"Plus three, then," said Harry through gritted teeth.

"Make sure none of the teachers find out. This one is all up to us," said Luna.

.

Several hours later, when everyone else was asleep, the thirteen gathered in the Gryffindor common room.

"Who are those three? Oh, bugger! Neville, Ernie, and Terry? What the hell is wrong with you, Lavender?" whispered Harry.

"Did someone say something to me?" asked Lavender.

"F***," whispered Ron.

"What now?"

"There are thirteen of us here. That's bad luck."

"Yeah. What do we do now?"

"Move over," whispered Hermione impatiently. "_Petrificus Totalus!"_

Neville turned to stone and nearly everyone clapped. Harry personally didn't feel it a good omen for an ally to so quickly be set upon by his buddies.

"We all ready to go?" he asked quietly.

"Yup," said Seamus, to a general nodding of heads.

They moved silently through the halls, somehow all fitting under the invisibility cloak. They reached the third floor corridor. After Hermione used a new unlocking spell to get past the newly-strengthened locking spell, they faced Fluffy. At its feet was a harp, which had been left behind by whoever had left the trapdoor shut behind them. Lavender got out her fiddle and played Fluffy to sleep. The companions went through the trapdoor one by one. Unfortunately, she couldn't go through the trapdoor while still playing, so she was left behind.

The eleven students found themselves tangled up in a great slimy plant. It had snatched hold of them moments after they fell through. The first one down, Hermione, was the only one to escape capture. She freed her friends with a hasty spree of _Buenos Dias_ spells, shedding light on the plant (actually, it's a fungus), causing it to wither. Dean broke his leg and volunteered to stay and watch the entrance.

In the next room they found an animated skeleton, which Ernie fought sword to sword until they both fell into a trap pit to one side of the room. His companions pressed on. In this room was a flock of winged keys and three brooms. The most competent fliers, Harry, Seamus, and Justin, took to the air and caught the key different from the rest. Justin unlocked the door, but as the other were running through, the keys massed together and slammed into the door, leaving Justin on the wrong side.

In the next room was a door which could only be opened with the power of love. Luckily, Susan was carrying a class promotion item, and used it to become Magical Girl Susan, Saturn Ranger and opened the door with her heart rod. Following this was a door which prevented the entry of magical girls. Alas, poor Susan… you know the rest.

Harry, by this point had figured something out.

"One of us is defeated in each room. Since I'm the main character, I will be the last one standing. So, we can just rush through the rooms!"

Harry ran into the next room shouting, "I'm Harry F****** Potter, Motherf******!"

Inside this room was a dragon. It blasted a jet of fire at Harry, who rolled to avoid it. Terry was scorched in a comedic way and passed out with no permanent harm done, somehow. The six remaining fighters took on the dragon. Spells had no effect on it. In a desperation tactic, Luna ran up to the dragon and smashed her jar of imaginary creatures on its head. Strangely, both she and the dragon fell asleep. Harry decided to leave them behind and entered the next room.

Inside this room was a poker table with dogs sitting around it. Hermione and Ron, who had been bickering offscreen about who was better at poker, both sat down at the table and were dealt hands. In minutes, Ron, Hermione, and a daschund were the only players left. Ron, however made a mistake, and Hermione won thanks to beginner's luck. Ron found himself magically stuffed into a dog kennel.

Beyond the next door was a pretty sight. A red-skinned horned beauty in far too little clothing sat in the middle of the room. Blaise volunteered to distract her while his companions snuck past. Beyond the next door, three bottles sat on a little table with a piece of paper, on which was written:

_Whosoever drinketh the least cannot pass._

Hermione, Seamus, and Harry sat down. Shortly, Hermione fainted into a drunken stupor. Harry and Seamus, too plastered to think of taking advantage of her, stumbled into the next room and dunked their heads in a water trough, which immediately sobered them. In this room there were onlt two other things: a platform, and a door high up in the air. Seamus used _Wingardium_ _Leviosa_ to lift Harry's platform up high along the wall to the door. With a last nod of thanks to his friend, Harry climbed through the door. Seamus let the platform drop and he gave a great yawn. Exhausted, he fell asleep.

In the final room facing Harry was something he did not expect. The mirror was there, but the person standing beside it was not Snape.

Next Time on HPMF:

Harry: What? Quirrell! You're the thief?

Quirrell: Of c-c-course I'm n-not. I w-was f-f-framed!

Harry: You're still here!

Quirrell: Oh, right. Shoot!


	19. Chapter 19: Pocketing the Stone

I do not own the Neverending Story, the Neverending Story 2, the Neverending Story 3, or the Neverending Story: The Final Chapter

Chapter 19: Are We Done? F***, Yeah! We're Not? F*** You!

It was Quirrell.

"_You?_" Harry whispered incredulously.

Quirrell smiled.

"Me," he said calmly in an English accent. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter."

"So it wasn't Snape?"

"Afraid not," Quirrell chuckled. "Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn't he? So useful to have him swooping around like a bulimic flying squirrel. Next to him, who would suspect poor, stuttering Professor Quirrell?"

Harry couldn't take it in. This couldn't be true, it couldn't.

"Luna was right!"

"She is clever girl, yes. Perhaps too clever. I would have thought you'd have brought her with."

"The traps were rather difficult," shrugged Harry.

"Traps? Didn't you bother to read the sign by the Devil's Snare giving directions to the secret passage?"

"That figures."

Quirrell snapped his fingers. Ropes sprang from the floor and wrapped themselves tightly around Harry.

"I am gifted in binding magic. That is why the dark lord trusted me with this mission."

"Voldemort?"

"_No, Dark Lord Gargomel -_- Of course I mean Voldemort!"

"There's no need to shout."

"I suppose there'll be no need for the ropes either?" asked Quirrell, quirking a bushy eyebrow.

Harry quirked right back at him.

"You are too nosy to live, Potter. Knowing about the three-headed dog and what was almost stolen from Gringotts made me decide that. If it hadn't been for Snape messing up my curse, you would have died at that Quidditch match."

"Snape _saved_ me?" Harry asked, disbelieving.

"Purely by accident. He was also cursing you, but our curses got tangled and we were fighting for control before we were interrupted. Now wait quietly, Potter. I need to examine this curious mirror."

Quirrell turned to face the mirror of Erised.

"This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," Quirrell continued in a reverent whisper. "Trust Dumbledore to put it back where he found it."

All Harry could think of doing was to keep Quirrell talking and stop him from concentrating on the mirror.

"I saw you and Snape in the forest –" he blurted out.

"Yes," said Quirrell idly, walking around the mirror to look at the back. "He suspected I was going to sell the secret of what his contribution was."

Quirrell came back out from behind the mirror and stared hungrily into it.

"I see the stone…I'm presenting it to my master…but where is it?"

"I suppose that if your accent is fake, that eyepatch and turban are, too?"

Quirrell turned to face Harry, glowering angrily.

"The eyepatch may be fake, but the turban _was_ given to me for my power!"

Quirrell cursed under his breath.

"I don't understand…should I break the mirror? How does it work? Help me, Master!"

And to Harry's horror, a voice answered. It came from everywhere and nowhere with all the beauty of nails dragged across a blackboard.

"Use the boy… Use the boy…"

Quirrell glared at Harry.

"Come here, Potter!"

Harry moved toward him, tiptoeing as slowly as he could. Quirrell hissed in exasperation and snapped his fingers. The ropes slid off. Quirrell forced Harry in front of him.

_I must lie,_ he thought desperately. _I must look and lie about what I see, that's all._

Quirrell moved closer, leaning over his shoulder. Harry looked into the mirror at his reflection. At first, all was normal, but then his reflection smiled at him. It put its hand into its pocket and pulled out a blood-red stone. It winked and put the Stone back in its pocket – and as it did so, Harry felt something heavy drop into his real pocket.

"Well?" said Quirrell impatiently. "What did you see?"

"I see myself surrounded by sexy women. They're pleasuring me."

Quirrell frowned hard at him.

"Tell me the truth! What did you see?"

The screechy voice spoke again.

"Let me speak to him…face-to-face…."

"Master, you are not strong enough!" warbled Quirrell in a genuinely frightened voice.

Quirrell let out a low, terrified moan as his head began to twist around, the neck muscles straining to move the head to an unnatural extent. Then, with the turban facing towards him, Quirrell's hand began to unravel it. Beneath was a sight so shocking that it would have made a New York cab driver feel mildly nauseated. It was a face.

"Harry Potter…" it whispered.

The eyes were glowing coals and the nostrils, slits. Quirrel's arms pulled him closer to the face's flicking tongue.

"See what I have become?" the face said. "Mere shadow and vapor with a form only when I can share the body of another. With the Stone, I will no longer have a need for my current methods. I can stand alone, as ruler of the world. Now… why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket?"

So he knew. Harry stumbled backward as feeling surged back into his legs.

"Don't be a fool," snarled the face. "Better to save your own life and join me…"

"Never!"

"Then DIE!" screamed Voldemort, raising Quirrell's wand hand. "_Llamarama!"_

Chains sprang from the ground, reaching for Harry. He rolled to one side, causing them to miss and shatter the mirror. Harry crawled backward until one of his hands broke through the rotten floor. As he struggled to pull it free, Voldemort loomed over him.

"Die, Harry Potter!"

Voldequirrell lunged for him with hands ready strangle him. There was a sudden flash of light and Voldemort and his puppet were flung back. The whole room shook and an enormous stone chunk fell from the ceiling into the floor behind Voldemort. The rotten boards burst and Voldemort fell down… down… down onto a stalagmite below. The stone spike drove up through his back and out his stomach. Quirrell gave a few weak wails before falling silent with a gurgle. A strange black gas fled from the hole and up the passage, last words trailing behind it. _Until next time, Harry Potter!_

.

The air stank of bleach, ammonia, or some other generic cleaning product. Harry opened his eyes. He was in a brightly lit room filled with empty beds covered by red sheets. Albus Dumbledore was speaking to a rather pretty lady that reminded Harry of Blaise. _I'm in the hospital wing_, he realized in a dull, distant sort of way. Dumbledore noticed at last that Harry was awake and came over.

"Good afternoon, Harry," said Dumbledore with a fatherly smile.

"Professor Dumbledore? I'm in the hospital wing, aren't I?" asked Harry dully.

"Yes, you are. Though I daren't say you've been here before. Hopefully you won't be here again anytime soon."

"What's going on? Did Quirrell get the stone?"

"No, he didn't. Check your pocket."

Harry realized he was still wearing his usual clothes instead of normal patient wear. He reached slowly into his pocket and pulled out the small red stone. I glowed gently in the sunlight.

"Shouldn't this be somewhere safer, sir?" asked Harry, frowning at the pounding headache that confronted him as he tried to sit up.

"I would have taken it if I could. It won't let anyone but its master touch it, however."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. You took it from the mirror. You are its master now, as I once was. It will serve you in any way it can."

"Can it do anything about this headache?" groaned Harry.

"No. Set it down, quick, here on this tray."

Harry set the Stone on the tray and felt his head immediately begin to clear.

"The legends say that possessing the Stone gives its owner a big head. They mean it rather literally. Holding it for too long makes your head heavy and your wits dull."

"I guess it's a good thing Hermione didn't get it then. Those are her only redeeming qualities."

"Do not judge her so harshly. You have your own shortcomings. But now is a time to be glad. Tonight we shall have a feast to celebrate Voldemort's defeat."

"That's great. How are my friends?"

"They are all doing fine now. Mr. Longbottom has left twice today. He seems unable to stand leaving here for long. I suppose you would like to know how you got the Stone, yes?"

"I suppose I am a bit curious."

"It is only obtainable by those that deserve it. They must want it, but not care to use it."

"I have one more question, sir."

"Just one?"

"Yes. What stopped Voldemort from strangling me?"

"A worthy question, but not one I think you need to know the answer to just now, from what I've heard."

Harry frowned, then noticed a cart heavily laden with sweets beside his bed. Dumbledore followed his gaze.

"Tokens from your many admirers," he explained simply.

"Admirers?"

"Yes. At some point during this year, nearly everyone discovered Fluffy and tried to get past the poor thing. It must not have gotten much sleep with all those disruptions."

"Did Fluffy hurt anyone?"

"No, no. Hagrid trained Fluffy to not harm anyone. The worst it can do is growl and give sloppy kisses."

"Glad I wasn't on the business end of that tongue."

"Yes, miss Brown seems to still be recovering from the experience."

Madam Zabini left the room about then and a small black dog trotted in through the open door. In a flash, it had turned into a man with shaggy hair and closed the door.

"Sirius Black!" gasped Harry.

"Good afternoon, Dumbledore, Harry," he said, smiling behind a rugged beard.

"Sirius," nodded Dumbledore.

"Are you being… cordial with him?" asked Harry in disbelief.

"Of course I am. He's a good friend of mine, and your godfather."

"This day just gets weirder and weirder!"

"You must have heard about why I went to Azkaban. There's a perfectly reasonable explanation for it," said Sirius calmly.

"I'm listening," said Harry, nervously checking to see where the nearest exit was.

"Pettigrew was a spy for Voldemort. I found out and tracked him down after he told Voldemort where your parents lived."

"Then why did the ministry arrest you?"

"They didn't want anyone killed. Even the Death Eaters."

"Typical. So what now?"

"Eh?"

"What are you going to do now? You can't exactly stay at the Leaky Cauldron."

"Dumbledore, I think, may have a solution to that."

"Indeed I do," nodded Dumbledore. Sirius will teach here next year, in disguise, of course. We will of course need a new DADA teacher, among other things."

"What other things?"

"Well, now that we know Voldemort is up and about, guards, to begin with. Many things will have to change next year, not least what I discussed with the minister."

"I thought Quirrell sent that owl."

"He did, but I just happened to run into the minister at the dragonport. The school will be holding a special event next year. But I can say no more. I will leave you to speak with your godfather, Harry."

.

The feast was excellent. After the tables had been cleared, Snape stood up to smugly announce that the Slytherins had won the house cup.

"The House Cup belongs to Slytherin!"

The Slytherins cheered as the other houses booed and jeered them. Abruptly, Dumbledore rose to his feet.

"Silence! I have a few last-minute points to dish out. First – to Lavender Brown, for wonderful skill with the fiddle- fifty points. Next, to Dean Thomas, for really nice hair, fifty points. To Ernie MacMillan, fifty points for an entertaining sword fight. To Justin Finch-Fletchly, fifty points for some mighty fine flying. Fifty points to Susan Bones for wearing a supremely short skirt."

Hufflepuff took the lead and their table cheered, bringing frowns to their classmates' faces.

"Terry Boot, none, because I don't like him. Fifty points go to Luna Lovegood for self-sacrifice and doing something I don't quite understand. To Ronald Weasley I award fifty points for making a valiant effort and being overconfident. Fifty points go to Blaise Zabini for giving Professor Zoriander," he gestured to the demonic woman sitting at the high table, "–a nicer time than she's had in a while. Hermione Granger gets fifty points for drinking herself silly. Seamus Finnigan is awarded fifty points for not blowing something up with a spell."

The Gryffindor table broke into applause at this accomplishment.

"And for Harry Potter, one hundred points for beating the piss out of Voldemort!"

The entire hall, aside from most of the Slytherins cheered at that. However, it was not enough to put the Gryffindors ahead of the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs. Dumbledore raised his hands and the talking quieted.

"Lastly, I wish to award to Neville Longbottom for placing first in the President's Fitness Challenge… 20,000 points!"

Nearly a quarter of the students in the hall fainted and most of the rest refused to believe their ears. Neville had won them the House Cup.

.

Harry and his friends were sitting aboard the Hogwarts Express, looking out the window, when they saw a strange sight. It was a turtle. And it was flying! Harry opened the window and it flew into the compartment. It landed on Ron's head.

"Looks like you've made a friend," commented Susan, stroking her Aisha.

"It's got a letter on its… flipper," said Seamus, pointing.

Ron slid the letter, which had a loop attached, off the turtle's flipper. He slit it open with his thumb and pulled out the sheet of notepaper inside. Upon it was written:

_I hope you all had a good year, and I hope to make the next one even better for the lot of you. Don't cause too little trouble over summer break. Signed Professor Padfoot_

_P.S. The hot springs turtle is for Ron, to replace his rat. Sorry, I was hungry._

"Rat? What rat?" puzzled Ron.

The train carried them back to the platform nine and three-quarters, where the Dursleys waited to take Harry back to Number 4, Privet Drive. Harry couldn't wait to come back.

.

.

For those of you who have had the patience to read this far, I've decided to share some of the best questions I've been e-mailed, and the answers. Feel free to send an e-mail if you have a question or just want to be annoyed.

Q: Were you traumatized as a child?

A: What do you think?

.

Q: Why did you bleep out only half the swears?

A: I didn't. I bleeped out all the swears so kids can read it. It's rated T because I didn't want to offend anyone with funny ideas about sex.

.

Q: Is this just going to be the first book?

A: No, I'm doing a second and third part as well, both contained under this story title.

.

Q: I noticed that most of the characters are amoral or have psychological issues.

A: That wasn't a question, you asinine nitpicker.

.

Q: Where do you get your inspiration?

A: Life, the world, everything.

.

Q: How do you write good fanfiction?

A: With a computer.

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Q: Can I write the next guest author chapter?

A: Yes. Just e-mail me a basic summary of what happens in it after I release details on what I'm looking for.

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I hope you will wait patiently for part 2. It may be some time before I can start on it. I encourage you to look at some of my other fanfiction, which you can be directed to on my page.


	20. Chapter 1: First Sequel Cometh Forth

Hello, everyone! Angel Dragoon would like to thank you for reading book one of Harry Potter and the Magnificent Farce! Starting with this chapter, we will continue to follow Harry and his friends in book two, following Harry's adventures over the course of his third year. This time around, they'll be facing turmoil from within, difficult new staff members, a mysterious competition, Voldemort's latest plot, and more drivel than you can shake a wand at. Without further ado, let's read:

Harry Potter and the Most Depressing Volume

Chapter 1: En Route to the World Cup

"Welcome to our humble home," said Seamus, opening the door.

Seamus's house was a beautiful three-story country home that wouldn't be out of place in a home and garden magazine. It was done up in a rustic style, with patterned wallpaper and rough carpet. The iron spikes gave it a gothic flare, however. The house normally looked different, but because their parents were on holiday in the Caribbean, Seamus and his sister had decided to add a few wizard touches, such as a chimney that puffed out multi-colored smoke rings and a door that opened on the knob side.

"It smells like sugar cookies in here," said Harry, sniffing the air.

"I've made some. Want one?" asked an alluring voice from the kitchen.

They entered the kitchen, where Seamus's sister, Shaina, was waiting with a tray. Harry had seen her over the course of the last year, but had never really gotten to speak with her, as she had an entirely different group of friends. And she was in Slytherin. Now, though, she seemed all smiles and sugar.

"Sure," said Harry amiably, taking one off the tray.

"Thanks, sis," said Seamus, reaching for one.

She swatted his hand.

"For shame. We haven't even had supper yet. We don't want to spoil your appetite, now do we?" she asked with a very syrupy smile.

"Right. Appetite," muttered Seamus, shaking his stung hand.

The supper was shepherd's pie with cut beans. Harry had two helpings and was quite full when they moved to the sitting room to fill the corners with plasma tea and jam tarts. There was a nice fire going in the hearth and comfortable armchairs to sit in. Harry felt more at home here than he ever had at the Dursleys.

"I wonder if Ron's family will ever get that ghoul exterminated," speculated Seamus.

"Ghoul?" asked Harry, still not very well briefed on the beasts of the magical world.

"It's a rather ugly and slimy creature that lives in their attic. It moans all night long. I had to sleep up there while visiting once and I saw it eat a rat. It was disturbing to say the least."

"What, fur and all?"

"No, worse. It skinned it with its claws and tore out the organs with its teeth before devouring them raw. It chewed the carcass to a pulp and spat out the bone fragments."

"Come now, brother dear. Don't disturb our guest. He has to sleep tonight, remember?" reasoned Shaina. "In fact, it's probably about time we all got to bed. That way we can get up bright and early tomorrow."

"Oh, fine."

They all changed for bed, had a last cup of plasma tea and went to bed without brushing or flossing or rinsing. Harry's room contained a four-posted bed, an oak dresser, a sturdy chest and a silver-backed mirror. He kicked off his shoes and got under the sheets. He was just beginning to drift off to sleep when the door opened and a hand holding a candle entered the room. Harry sat up.

"Are you awake? Yes, I can see now that you are."

It was Shaina. Harry stared at her, since it would have been nearly impossible not to, as she was wearing a Victorian era nightdress with beautifully crafted rose pattern lace running around the cuffs and hem and a white lily pattern on the body of the garment. She had a white carnation threaded through the cinnamon hair over her ear.

"Not too shy to accept a little company tonight?" asked she.

Harry was too stunned for words.

"Strictly in the interest of keeping warm," she assured him, sitting down and pulling back the duvet. "Nice wood."

"Maple, isn't it?" asked Harry, pointing at a bedpost.

"Not what I meant," said Shaina, smiling and blowing out the candle.

.

"Have a good night's sleep?" asked Seamus when he came in the next morning.

"I suppose you could say that," said Harry, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

Shaina must have left at some point during the night because she wasn't in the room.

"What do you think of her?" asked Seamus, twirling a white carnation he had found on the dresser.

"Who?"

"My sister, of course."

"Fine, I guess."

"Fine? She shagged you, mate."

"What would give you that idea?" asked Harry, pulling on his jeans.

"I know my sister," said Seamus flatly, setting the carnation back down on the dresser.

"What of it?"

"Nothing."

"Not going to get on me about taking your sister's innocence?"

"She's far from innocent."

"I'll give you that."

"Seventy-seven."

"Huh?"

"You were number 77."

"Jeez. She doesn't have anything, you think?"

"No, I'm pretty sure. She doesn't give, she takes."

"That's one way of putting it," said Harry matter-of-factly.

"Don't expect any affection out of her. Or second helpings."

"I kind of guessed that after you said seventy-seven," said Harry as he put his glasses on. "Was she saving me for that number?"

"Probably. She passed 49 sometime three years ago."

"How do you know?"

"What?"

"How many guys she's slept with."

"They're not all guys. And it's pretty obvious. Once a month she sleeps with someone new and only once."

"Hasn't found anyone she fancies?"

"Don't be a bugger about this," groaned Seamus.

"I won't. It's just that I've never gone looking for a girl and…"

"It was never your first time!"

"It was. And I'm not ashamed to admit it," Harry shook his head and checked his hair. "Perfect."

"Nice bedhead."

"You didn't think I had it naturally, did you?"

"Course not."

Seamus slammed the door behind him as they went downstairs for breakfast. Seamus made up some scrambled eggs on toast with sausage for them and Harry squeezed oranges in the juice press.

"Happy f***ing 4 A.M." muttered Shaina as she came downstairs. "Have we got any firewhisky?"

"Happy f***ing good morning to you, too, sis. No, we don't. That's offensive," said Seamus, pointing at her boxers and undershirt.

"Your bunny slippers are offensive. Pass the sausage, Harry."

"Don't insult Mr. and Mrs. Flopsy, they're right here you know."

"Yes, of course I know, they're under that table _every _morning."

"What if I made fun of your bear, eh? How would you like that?"

"I couldn't care either way."

"He's a worn old dustrag, he is. He's so fallen to pieces that you can't even tell he's a bear."

"Feh."

"And you f*** him because you're insecure."

"Piss. Off," said Shaina darkly.

"I swear, she really does! Every night, 'I love you so much Mr. Reagan! What would I do without you Mr. Reagan?' If I had five pence for every time she- ahh! Blimey!"

Shaina had thrown the butter scraper at him and hit his hand, leaving a red bar on his skin.

"If you'll excuse me, boys, I'll be eating in my room."

After his sister had left, Seamus turned to Harry, who had until now remained carefully silent throughout the proceedings, and said, "Sisters."

.

"F***ing freezing out here," remarked Shaina, shivering.

"Oh, get over it already," snapped Seamus, who was wearing a wool jacket and jeans. "Why did you wear a raincoat and boots anyway?"

"They make me look cute."

"You mean childish."

This bought Seamus an angry growl and muttering. Harry was beginning to feel very uncomfortable. It wasn't because of the cold, either. He was dressed in a fashion similar to Seamus. In this part of England it _did_ get rather cold this late in the summer.

"Ever use a Portkey before?" asked Seamus.

Harry shook his head and Seamus elaborated. "They're essentially teleporting stuff."

"What sort of stuff?"

"Just stuff. A Portkey can be anything. The one we'll be looking for is an empty sardine can."

"And then what? Do you cast some sort of spell on it?"

"No, you just touch it and wait for it to become active."

"Which happens when?"

"Portkeys can be set with a number of parameters, but ours leaves at six twenty four."

"Four f***ing A.M." muttered Shaina.

"Maybe you shouldn't have stayed up so late," said Seamus with a small smirk.

"Maybe you should get a girlfriend so you're not looking for another outlet for your energy," retorted Shaina, smiling when she earned an unhappy grunt from Seamus.

They had been walking for the last twenty minutes, slowly making their way to a ring of standing stones on the nearby downs.

"Is that Stonehenge?" asked Harry suspiciously.

"The real one," said Seamus, with an exclamatory finger.

Harry was beginning to get used to this sort of surprise and didn't ask about it. He knew the answer would be something along the lines of "muggles would do something stupid with the real Stonehenge."

"There it is!" cried Seamus happily, pointing at an empty sardine can in the ditch.

"Is it the right one?"

"Yeah, see? It's got the Ministry of Magic logo on it."

Indeed it did… Do I really have to tell you?

Harry reached out his hand and placed a single finger on it. The outside of the can was slimy with ditch muck. Shaina reached out a gloved hand and touched the can also, glaring at Seamus.

"What? Did you actually expect me to wipe it off for you?"

Shaina's gaze softened before refocusing on the can. Harry hoped that it would be 6:24 soon. Suddenly he felt a sudden pull at his navel and he, Seamus, and Shaina disappeared, leaving the f***ing freezing road behind them.


	21. Chapter 2: It's from the 4th book

I do not own Cartoon Network, obviously. If I did, there'd be a lot better programming on air.

Chapter 2: A Smashing Good Sport

It happened immediately. Harry felt as though a hook just behind his navel had been suddenly jerked irresistibly forward. His feet left the ground; he could feel Seamus and Shaina on either side of him, their shoulders banging into his; they were all speeding forward in a howl of wind and swirling color; his forefinger was stuck to the tin as though it was pulling him magnetically onward and then —

His feet slammed into the ground; Seamus staggered into him and his wand fired a ball of blue flame into the sky. The Portkey hit the ground near his head with a heavy thud.

Harry looked up. Two men were lying on the ground nearby, watching the blue fireball soar ever higher and muttering curses under their breath.

Harry stood up and brushed himself off, leaving just enough dust to look fashionable. They had arrived on what appeared to be a deserted stretch of misty moor. The men were wizards. Tired, annoyed wizards. They were both dressed, there is no other word for it; absurdly. Apparently they had tried to dress as Muggles. One was in a tweed suit with galoshes; his colleague, a kilt and poncho.

"This just keeps getting better and better," muttered the wizard in the kilt, "You! Keep your wand under control! If you do something as stupid as that again, I'm going to have to confiscate it."

"Sorry, sir," said Seamus, abashed.

"It's alright, son," said the wizard, holding his head in his hands, "Pleinair knows no one's caring how much magic they show off. We've had explosions, levitations, and Leprechaun mobs every hour on the hour. Never you mind, though. The site manager's called Mr. Rogers. You'll find him thereabouts."

The wizard gestured toward the roof of a small building a few hundred yards away, almost completely hidden by pine trees. He walked off, carrying the sardine can in one hand and the conjuring an expresso into his other.

"He looks tired," commented Harry.

Seamus nodded sympathetically, then said, "Poor bugger. Well, let's find Mr. Roger."

Mr. Rogers was a kindly man in his later years. By the looks of things, he had bought the campground to have a means of income in his later years.

"Hello, neighbors, how can I help you?" he asked kindly.

"We have a campsite reserved," said Seamus. "It's registered under 'Finnigan, Dorcas.'"

Harry looked at him sharply as Mr. Rogers turned around to dig through files stacked in a cabinet.

"My uncle's name. He works in the Department of Magical Games and Sports, which is how we got the tickets. He couldn't come, though, on account of his allergy towards grass."

"Here we are," said Mr. Rogers, returning with the file.

"Thank you so much," said Harry, shaking his hand and accepting the file.

"Have a nice day, neighbor."

They walked for about three minutes down a gravel trail and found themselves at the edge of a large field filled with structures of varying size and construction. Some looked vaguely like tents. Seamus dug a map out of the file and they looked at it intently. According to the map, the field was roughly twenty kilometers in diameter and shaped like a Dningsmaket. Their camping spot was in the southwest region of the campground, about where the Dningsmaket's 7th nipple would be.

"Seamus, did you bring a tent?" asked Harry.

"What?"

"Did you bring a tent?"

"Have you ever gone camping before?" asked Seamus.

"No," admitted Harry. "But I do reckon we'll have to stay somewhere."

"First things first. Let's worry about finding our spot."

The three of them made their way to the Dningsmaket's 7th nipple. They had to walk slowly through the crowd of thousands of wizards going from point AAGH372 to point ROWL1N6. The trio of walking plot points eventually reached their camping spot. Only there was a problem.

"Get your f****** tent off our spot, Malfoy!" shouted Harry.

It was more like a mansion than a tent. Indeed, it had a sprawling patio, twenty chimneys, a double-decker garage, twelve stories and a basement, and a pleasure garden with a koi pond, gazebo, and a shishi-odoshi. For those of you who don't know what that is, I'll leave you in suspense. You could always look it up on Google. But what is it? Is it a website that gives you a horrible virus or perhaps a police-run trap set for potential terrorists or sex offenders? You'll just have to find out for yourself.

Technically, only about three inches of the gazebo were on their space. Nevertheless, Harry was very protective of his property. He had to do it because Seamus was distracted by the shishi-odoshi. Have you looked that up yet? Malfoy was sunbathing on the roof with an impetuous smirk twisting his mouth. There was a loud crack and a huge-eyed little creature was staring sadly at them.

"Please leave master Malfoy alone. He must get six hours of sun every day if he doesn't want to be mistaken for an albino vampire."

It was Dobby, the house elf. Harry had met the Malfoy family toad only once before, though exactly when, he couldn't say.

"We'll leave when he gets his d*** gazebo off our spot!" shouted Harry.

"Forget about him," said Shaina, exasperated. "Let's get the tent set up before we get distracted again."

"Where's the tent, then?" asked Harry, "I don't see one anywhere."

"I'll just summon one from the checkout," said Seamus. "_Accio!_"

For a few moments it seemed that nothing had happened. Then Harry spotted a bundle of cloth soaring through the air toward them. As it passed over the Malfoys' chimneys, Dobby snapped his fingers. The tent burst into flames and fluttered to the ground in a pile of ashes.

"Great," Seamus said weakly.

Time passes.

"Don't break anything," said Lucius Malfoy in a voice that sounded superficially sweet, but with hinted darkness.

"Malfoy's dad scares me," muttered Seamus.

"You and me both," agreed Harry.

"Ooh, look," said Shaina, "They've got a whirlpool in the guest bath!"

"Why are we staying with the Malfoys?" asked Harry.

"Because they agreed to cover the costs on the tent and got us into the Top Box."

"I still don't like it. It feels like I'm giving Malfoy ammo for his boasting."

"Then why didn't you say anything earlier?"

"Didn't feel like it with that busty maid looking at us apologetically like that. Think she's available?"

"You realize we're in the Malfoy's tent, right? They've probably got chastity belts on all their servants."

"When's the match? I want to get out of here as soon as possible."

"Twelve hours. I guess we could look around the camp for people we know."

"Let's do that," said Harry with undue urgency.

During their walk through the camp, they saw many humorous events and met many neat people. For the full version, just buy volume 4 of Harry Potter and the Magnificent Farce on Amazon for what would have been $0.99 American in 1833.

That night, Harry, Seamus, Shaina, and the Malfoys took an old-fashioned lift to the Top Box. It was quite roomy and had all the amenities that could be expected at a six star resort. Harry didn't enjoy the glares he was getting from the Malfoys, so he led the Finnigans to the other side of the Top Box. A man in ministry uniform gave them strange pairs of binoculars as they passed him.

"What're these?" asked Harry.

"Omnioculars. Standard sporting event fare," said Shaina knowledgably.

"How would you know?"

"I once pursued a witch who enjoyed Lacrosse. They were renting them out from a booth."

Harry, a bit unsettled by this, looked around to take his mind off the subject.

"Professor Lovecraft!"

Indeed, the History of Magic teacher was sitting in a nearby seat, using his Omnioculars to record something on the field below.

"Harry, goodness! And Mr. Finnigan and the young temptress! How are you all?"

"Great, sir! Come to see the match?"

"Couldn't very well miss it, could I? Ireland versus Bulgaria, what a great matchup! They're calling it the match of the century! 'Course, they've called every Quidditch final in the last seven centuries that. It was started by some village idiot in France, did you know?"

"No, sir. You're the history professor, not me."

"I don't suppose you've ever met the Minister of Magic, have you?"

"Yes, I have, actually."

"Hello, Harry! Good to see you again!" shouted Cornelius Fudge, wringing his hand. "Mr. Lockhart, this is Harry Potter!"

A man in resplendent purple robes bowed slightly and displayed the widest, handsomest, cheesiest smile anyone has ever seen. It didn't register just then, but Harry later wondered how they had crept up on them without his noticing.

"It's so wonderful to meet you at last Harry!" he said in a too-honest tone.

Harry faked a smile. He wasn't sure he liked this man.

"I think I have one of your books," he said, feeling thick.

"Most everyone does!" said Lockhart, still smiling. "Perhaps we can have tea sometime. Look me up next time you're in France."

"And this," said Fudge, "is American Magic General Lightning Mountain Dew and Japanese Minister of Magical Technologies, PC 001."

The man on his left was in full camouflage military uniform and bore a stern frown, the woman on his right wore a business suit and had glowing green eyes.

"Yo!" boomed Lightning Mountain Dew.

"Konban wa," said PC 001.

"We're negotiating a Unified Missile Defense Plan after the match. So sorry, but I can't invite you. It's top secret, you know. Please vote for me in the next election."

Fudge began pandering to the others in the box, bumping into a small house elf as he passed by. It teared up immediately, slumping forward.

"Look!" shouted Seamus.

A man wearing yellow and black robes had ascended to a podium at the front of the box. "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen to the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"

The spectators screamed and clapped. Thousands of flags waved, adding their discordant national anthems to the racket.

"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce… the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"

"Mascots?" Harry mouthed, remembering the funny looking costumed people who ran around at his former school's matches.

The right-hand side of the stands, which was a solid block of scarlet, roared its approval.

"Veela!" Seamus gleefully cried.

A hundred veela were now gliding out onto the field. Veela were women… the most beautiful women Harry had ever seen… except that they weren't – they couldn't be – human. This puzzled Harry for a moment while he tried to guess what exactly they could be; what could make their skin shine moon-bright like that, or their white-gold hair fan out behind them without wind… but then the music started, and Harry stopped worrying about them not being human – in fact, he stopped worrying about anything at all. The veela had started to dance.

"What are you boys doing? Oh, right. The veela, eh?" said Lovecraft, who Harry suddenly realized was holding them by the shoulders.

Harry realized he was standing up, and so was Seamus. Shaina merely smirked at them before turning back to the field. The veela had stopped dancing. The crowd was going wild. Several men had fallen from their boxes and landed on the roaring mass of spectators below. Apparently veela had the ability to sway the heart of man.

"And here come the little green garden decorations," Lovecraft commented dryly.

A giant green-and-gold comet had begun to circle stands. It seemed to be raining gold. Did I write "seemed to be?" I meant "It was." Great big gold coins falling like the stock market. What was the comet? A nurple of leprechauns, of course. (For those of you who don't know what 'nurple' means, it is the proper term for a large group of associated leprechauns.) Professor Lovecraft was chuckling to himself.

"This is loads better than our last field trip," said Seamus as he stuffed his pockets.

"Ugh, don't remind me."

"Who the hell makes the decision to provision an island like that with _two_, count 'em, TWO effing rocket launchers, a couple of dart guns, and smoke grenades?"

"At least they were decent enough to leave some deadly poisons lying around," Harry said with a rueful shake of his head. "At least it won't happen again."

Bagman ended their conversation with a great shout, "And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome – the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you – Dimitrov!"

Once again, for the full version, look up the book on Amazon. Buy it.


	22. Read this, Arc!

I do not own this laptop, this story, or this penname, but nonetheless, this chapter is mine.

Chapter 3: Hello, my name is Pennyworth.

It just so happens that my nerdy roommate is out right now, so I've decided to rewrite a chapter of his stupid geek-fiction while he's off drinking.

"Ah, gawd! There's people on fire!" shouted Harry.

"How unsanitary!" bleated Draco.

"What's going on?" Seamus asked sleepily.

"Death eaters!" Shaina shouted over the loud bangs.

"Death whats?" asked Harry. "Is that some kind of gay thing?"

"Have you been living in a cupboard for the last twenty years? They're Lord Voldemort's loyal subjects!" Malfoy said condescendingly. "And now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get some autographs."

About here Arc starts ranting about one of his stupid philosophical ideals. I'm gonna skip it, just to piss you off, Arc.

The twerp with glasses ducked outside, closely followed by his cronies. They got to the woods and blah-di-blah-di-blah- You know the story. There was some puns and one or two cheap jokes and changes in the text, but that's all. Then they were all on the way back to Seamus's house, but 'cause I don't really care about that, they're going to the Weasley house instead.

"Funny how the death eaters left when the dark mark went up," commented Ron.

"Yeah, I just wish I understood why," sighed Harry, "Anyways, thanks, Ron. I get the feeling that Seamus wanted an opportunity to contact his parents and tell them that the two of them were all right."

"No prob. It's too bad that Hermione didn't want to come too."

"Yeah. Of course I don't blame her. Draco is so rich and powerful that anyone would be in love with him! Even I, Harry Potter, can attest to that!"

"But Draco Malfoy belongs to a family of death eaters. There's no getting around that," Bill pointed out.

"I don't- nor do I think anyone else does- care about that. He is just so incredibly awesome. If I was Hermione, I'd get married to him right now."

"Then why don't you, if you're so in love with him?" Ron groaned.

"I respect that he loves her and won't get in the way of his love. If he doesn't want me, I won't get in his way."

"Jeez, you're so fucking gay!" Ron laughed

Shoot! Arc just got back. Gotta upload this quick. Suck it, pretty boy!


	23. Chapter 4: Familiar Faces

While I was out, my roommate got on my computer and changed one of my chapters. I really don't feel like writing the whole 7000 words again, so I'll leave that for later. And since I now log out before leaving home, she won't be able to ruin any more chapters. I'd like to take a moment to say sorry to anyone she offended. Sorry. Now, I hope you will enjoy this chapter of Harry Potter.

Chapter 4: King's Cross and Hogsmeade: One Track to Rule Them Both

There was a definite end-of-the-holidays gloom in the air when Harry awoke next morning. Heavy rain was still splattering against the window as he got dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt; they would change into their school robes on the Hogwarts Express.

"You have a car?" Harry said, absolutely surprised.

"Yeah. It's not like we can fly everywhere. That would be silly. Doesn't your family have a car?" asked Seamus.

"They're not my family and yes, they do. I just didn't think wizards would."

"Wish I could fly everywhere, mate," sighed Seamus, "But the statute of secrecy…"

"Statute of who?"

"Secrecy. The thing which says muggles can't know about wizards or magic and all that. Here, help me load sis's trunk into the boot."

"Sure thing."

Harry heaved upward and together with Seamus, managed to drop it into the car, which shifted visibly.

"That must be a s***load of makeup," panted Harry.

"You should thank the blazes you don't live here."

"Already do."

"Are you two ready yet?" asked Shaina from the back seat.

"Yeah, we were just loading the last of the rubbish into the car," said Seamus, popping open the driver's side door.

"It's not rubbish. It's makeup."

"Ten points to Gryffindor!" said Seamus.

"Turn on the radio, I don't want to listen to guy talk all the way to Hogwarts."

Seamus switched on the radio. Mexican music filled the vehicle.

"Something else!"

Seamus turned the knob, but it was the only kind of music.

"Can you at least turn the volume down?"

"Volume control's broken!"

"F***!"

"F***!" agreed Harry.

"F***," nodded Seamus.

Now Loading…

"Seamus… I never- *ulp* never want to ride with you again," muttered Harry as he stumbled out of the car.

"Yes, I agree with- one moment please-" Shaina managed to say before vomiting out the window.

"It wasn't _that_ bad. Hey, come on. Okay, next time you can drive, Harry."

The three made their way to Platform nineteen and nine-tenths with only minor difficulty. When Harry passed through the barrier, he stopped for a moment to admire the train through the smog. He had to move a few seconds after passing through to make way for the wizards charging in behind him. Harry still couldn't believe that no muggles knew about this yet, as the mass of pushing wizards and students shoving their way through was like a crowd at a rock concert. Harry had to jump out of the way to avoid some chick on a Vespa.

"Bugger!"

Neville also had to leap aside to avoid being run over.

"I don't wanna die!" he shouted as the girl swerved.

"Whoa!" she shouted, and crashed into a lamp post.

Her helmet popped off and rolled into the crowd where it was kicked around like a football in Mexico. A pair of big blue eyes blinked and she smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry, Harry! I can't see anything in that helmet!"

"Don't worry about it Luna," said Harry, giving her a hand up. "Have a good summer?"

"It was rather nice, yes."

"What about me?" asked Neville, standing up and brushing himself off.

"Good morning Neville! Did you forget to wash your robes?" asked Luna.

Neville looked down at his now dirty and torn robes.

"Just had these dry-cleaned," he mumbled, sticking his thumb through a hole in the sleeve.

"If I was you, I'd get it washed somewhere else. In fact, I know a lovely Laundromat in Hogsmeade-"

At that exact moment, the whistle blew.

"Hurry it up, the train's about to leave!" shouted Seamus.

Harry, Neville, and Luna loaded their stuff into the baggage compartment just before it was shut, barely managing to get the Vespa in before it closed. They clambered on board as the train began to roll. The last few students were racing to the train as the parents raced to be the first back to the parking lot. By now, most of the compartments had at least one person in them and because all young people are self-serving b******s, no one would let them sit with them. After about five minutes, they found the compartment Seamus was sharing with Dean Thomas.

"What's up my man?" said Dean, punching fists with Harry.

"Magic. You're looking badarse."

"Got the hat in Egypt. It's sweet, I know. Where are my manners? Come, sit down."

"Really?" asked Neville hopefully.

"Everyone 'cept you. Only 'nough room for four."

Neville groaned.

"And I don't want to be accused of putting my feet up on the steps. You should wash those robes more often," said Dean as Luna pulled the door shut behind her.

"What a dork," laughed Seamus, "He actually put on his robes _before_ he got on the train?"

"Must be because of what happened last year," mused Harry.

"_That_? I guess I could buy that. Anyone'd be nervous after having Malfoy do that to them."

"Yeah."

"That reminds me," Dean grinned, "Guess who's in the compartment next door?"

"Not Snape?"

"Sure it's Not Snape... No, it's actually Ron."

"What about Ron?"

"Wait until you see what he's wearing! You won't believe it."

"I already don't. There's absolutely nothing interesting about Ron. That's the main reason why I don't hang out with him. The second reason would probably be that he is six years older than I am."

"Sad that he was held back in school for that long. Wait, if you say he's disinteresting, why _do you hang out with him_?"

"His mum makes really great pie."

"She does," confirmed Luna with a bob of the head.

"Luna, what are you doing?"

"Reading the Quibbler," she replied without any trace of admission that there was something abnormal about reading a magazine upside down.

"I really don't get you at all," Harry said slowly.

"It's too easy to read it right side up."

"What about left side up?" Harry asked sarcastically.

"Also too easy."

"Not as easy as Lavender," remarked Seamus.

"That's a little cruel, don't you think?" asked Dean.

"If she and Ron are going out, she must be easy," reasoned Harry.

Ron opened the door just then.

"Hey guys."

There was silence for a few seconds before Luna said sweetly, "Hello Ron."

The others echoed her.

"Now that we've got the pleasantries out of the way," said Ron, pulling a little girl out from behind him. "I can get to business. Or, more to the point, you can."

"What's up with her-" Dean began to ask when Ron interrupted.

"She's my new sister in law's half-sister, Gabrielle. She's a first year and needs looking after. Could you please look after her for the rest of the trip?"

"Yes, but about-"

"Great, later!" Ron said, closing the door.

They were silent for a few moments before they burst out laughing.

Harry struggled to breath as he laughed and said, "Pinhead!" to himself.

"Fred and George's work, that!" laughed Dean. "Brilliant, isn't it!"

All this time, little Gabrielle stood stock still like a raccoon caught raiding an exploding dustbin. This simile is slightly less applicable when the target has sheep ears and ram horns. The four of them only remembered she was there when they all spotted them once again perched up there at roughly the same moment, at which point they just froze. Their mouthes still in open smiles from the laughter, but their eyes and brains still processing.

"Good morning," Luna said finally.

Gabrielle remained frozen to the spot. It was awfully quiet for the next few seconds. In that short period, a dreadful noise began to emanate from the neighboring compartment, from which could be discerned little more than cries and laughter.

"Sounds like Lavender," remarked Dean.

Suddenly the lot of them began making noise in any way they could, turning on a walkman, talking loudly, flipping the pages of a decidedly too slim Quibbler issue all to keep the naughty noise out.

"Harry Potter! Nice to meet you, hello!"

"I am Dean! Good to see you! Welcome to the Hogwarts Express!" shouted Dean.

"I'm Luna Lovegood! Am I being loud enough?"

"_I'm a little teapot, short and stout_!" Seamus sang off key.

The noise from the neighboring compartment seemed to grow somehow louder still. Suddenly, the noise stopped. It took about six seconds for them to realize this. Abruptly, everyone stopped making noise.

It seemed to be over, when they heard Lavender shriek, "D*** it! So close!"

Harry smacked himself in the face with gusto. He had _not_ wanted to hear that. Still, Gabrielle was not fazed.

"Do you speak English?" asked Harry.

She said something beautifully hilarious that I can't write because my computer doesn't have the capacity to write in French. I already filled up the memory space with English and German.

"Does anyone here understand French?" asked Harry.

"I can read subtitles," said Luna.

Harry gave her a blank stare and turned to Dean and Seamus.

"What about you?"

Dean began counting off on his fingers, "I speak English, Egyptian, Arabic, Finnish, Quenya, Latin, Greek, Albanian, Spanish, Portuguese, and Hungarian."

"No French?"

Dean shook his head.

"How many fingers do you have?" asked Seamus.

Dean raised his hands and wiggled his fingers.

"I have an idea!" said Luna.

She raised her forefinger in front of her flat chest, then raised her forefingers to her mouth and pulled the corners into a smile. Gabrielle lit up and used her fingers to pull up the corners of her mouth. Luna pointed at herself, then, in sequence showed ten fingers followed by three. Gabrielle pointed at herself and raised ten fingers, then shaped a finger and thumb into a zero.

"Charades?" Harry guessed and was met with nods. "Somehow, this conversation was suddenly incredibly boring.

The train came to an abrupt halt and Harry, Seamus, and Gabrielle slammed into Dean and Luna, who were in the seats opposite.

"Son of a b****!" shouted Harry and Seamus in perfect unison.

"Who taught that arsehole how to drive?" Dean asked Pleinair/God/Allah.

"Probably Seamus."

"That was uncalled for!" Seamus muttered from somewhere beneath him with feeling.

The compartment door slid open and a body fell on top of the heap.

"Ouch! Who is that?" asked Dean.

"It's me," groaned Neville.

"What're you doing in here? And what's going on?"

"Dunno. I was in the aisle, trying to find a compartment one minute, flew to the front of the train the next. Reckon the train must've hit the brakes."

"We left the station an hour ago. You were still looking for a compartment just now?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"Got any room? You're not even using the other half of the compartment."

Harry stood up and helped Gabrielle up. Seamus grunted and Gabrielle got off his back so he could sit up.

"-'m I bleedung?" asked Seamus as blood streamed down his face and coursed down onto the floor.

Neville slipped in the growing pool and fell on his bum.

"A bit," said Harry.

"Neville, could you close the door? I'm getting goosebumps," whispered Luna, then coughed to clear her crushed trachea.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine. Fine. Next time I'd prefer if you land on Dean, though."

Neville slid the door shut.

"It _is_ cold all of a sudden," said Harry. "Usually I don't notice this sort of thing, but right now I wish I had a coat."

"Anybody see a dial for the thermostat?" asked Dean.

"Found it," said Luna.

"That's not it," said Harry.

"Sorry."

"Keep trying in that general area."

"I see shadows! Shadows through the crack of the door!" squealed Neville.

"If I go to hell, the devil will have rigged up loudspeakers everywhere playing an endless cycle of Neville speaking," said Dean.

A rotted, almost plastic hand grabbed the edge of the door and-

"Ah!" Harry screamed.

He saw a bright flash of emerald green and heard a woman shrieking in unbelievable pain. It wasn't quite Dean's idea of hell, but it was pretty bad.

When Harry awoke, it was to something warm on his face and chest.

"Told you it would work," said Seamus.

Harry opened his eyes.

"CPR: Classic Protagonist Reviver," said Dean matter-of-factly.

Harry, already fearing that it was Neville, opened his eyes. _Thank Pleinair_ he thought to himself. It was Luna.

"He's awake," Neville said in relief.

Luna sat up, "Harry, are you okay?"

Seamus smirked, "More than okay by the looks of it. Could you get that thing to lay down Harry?"

Harry already knew what he was talking about and swiftly set his mind on such deboning thoughts as Cricket, Snape, and Spongebob Squarepants.

"You passed out! How are you feeling?"

"Hungry."

Harry noticed that the train was moving again.

Dean fished around in his pants, "I've got some chocolate in my pocket."

He produced a Mars Bar.

"It looks a little melted."

"Yeah. Sorry 'bout that."

"This is perfect!" said Luna.

"How so?"

"That was a dementor!"

They all gave her a blank stare.

"The guards of Azkaban prison."

More stares.

"The place Sirius Black was in."

"Oh! Yeah! I knew that!" lied Seamus.

"Because dementors suck all the happiness out of them-" continued Luna.

"So that's why it didn't affect me," said a nonplussed Neville.

"-chocolate is perfect for recovering from depression."

"That ties as America's worst problem," said Harry, eating a gob of chocolate.

"With what?" asked Dean, curious.

"Obesity. Which, ironically, is caused by chocolate."

"Why do you think dementors were on the train?" asked Seamus.

"Fudge is up for re-election. I'll bet you five Sickles that he's redoubling his efforts to catch Sirius Black," said Dean.

"I wouldn't take that bet if you paid me to."

Gabrielle said something in French, then turned to Luna and began pantomiming.

"She wants to know how long the ride will be."

"If we don't get stopped again," Seamus said solemnly, "I reckon it'll be another two hours."

"Not so serious! You're scaring her!" scolded Luna.

"She doesn't look scared to me."

She wasn't.

"Anything happen while I was knocked out?" asked Harry.

"Well…" Seamus and Dean locked eyes and empathically sent each other a very clear message: _Let's not tell him about what we were doing._

Next time on HPMF:

Shaina: Where's my coffee? I know I told someone I wanted coffee! His name was Greg or something. Whoever he is, he's fired!

Seamus: Calm down, sister of mine, it's not a big deal. Tea?

Shaina: I f***ing hate tea! And that b****** will never work in show business again!

Seamus: It's a book.

Shaina: Same thing!

Seamus: And there's vodka in the tea.

Shaina: Hand it over!


	24. Chapter 5: The Title of Book 4

I do not own Batman, Superman, or Green Arrow.

Chapter 5: Home Again

Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry: the most wretched hive of cheaters and pranksters in the Scottish highland. It was the beginning of another year of magic and adventure, limited only by the pale dictator sitting at the teacher's table.

"Students, welcome!" shouted Snape.

The students in the Great Hall were chatting excitedly, completely ignoring Snape.

Snape sighed, then roared, "Sit down and shut up, you bunch of freaking annoying hormone bombs!"

You could have heard a rose petal touch the floor.

"To start off the year, we'll sort the new first years into their houses. McGonagall, take over."

The head of Gryffindor, Professor McGonagall was a stern but fair role model for the goody two-shoes of the school.

"When I call your name, sit on the stool and place the Sorting Hat on your head. It will tell you which house you are in" she said, gesturing toward the stool.

Whispering broke out. McGonagall turned and gasped in astonishment.

"Where is the Sorting Hat?" she cried in a very Scottish accent.

"Over here," said a very exasperated Sorting Hat.

It was perched atop Neville's head.

"Whatever are you doing there?"

"Sorry, Professor," mumbled Neville, "I must have grabbed the wrong hat in the cloakroom."

"Return it to the stool, mister Longbottom!"

As Neville hustle to the stool, McGonagall continued, "One of the many decisions that was made at the end of last year was that you would get your own hourglass to lose points from, as it hasn't been fair for the Gryffindors to lose so many points from your hi-jinks. 25 points from Neville."

Black negative points fell into Neville's hourglass.

"Let that be a lesson to- Oh, no!"

The Sorting Hat had begun to sing.

_A thousand years or more ago,_

_When I was innocent,_

_I was chosen by these four mages,_

_To sort until I was spent:_

_Confident Gryffindor, a drunk old sod,_

_Stern Ravenclaw, a broom up her arse,_

_Cowardly Slytherin, who was armed to the teeth,_

_And the idiot badger guy, who made it a farce._

_They all thought themselves cleverest,_

_And formed very mean plans,_

_To steal each others' secrets,_

_And became our school's dark origins._

_Now each of these four plotters,_

_Made their students a house, unwisely,_

_As for tax purposes, one roof was best,_

_So a castle was built, with materials motley._

_Dizzy Gryffindor, quite drunk,_

_Vomited into my depths mead;_

_Clever Ravenclaw, sparked desire,_

_Sadly, for my lack of eyes, to read;_

_Deadpan Slytherin, in his wisdom,_

_Entrusted me with skepticism;_

_The yellow founder, so sad,_

_Gave me any hope he'd ever had._

_While alive, they picked their own,_

_Young minds theirs alone to hold,_

_Yet who would split the children up,_

_When their bodies in earth lay cold?_

'_Twas Gryffindor who did it,_

_Too drunk to keep his head,_

_Put a circuit board in me,_

_So I could choose in his stead!_

_Now slip me snug upon your noggin,_

_To complete the task to which I am beholden,_

_And with a quick peek into your mind,_

_Decide which path for you is best chosen._

The Great Hall shook with laughter at the bunny ears Professor Padfoot was holding over Snape's head. Snape spun in a flurry.

"Stop that!"

Professor Padfoot stuffed the bunny ears in his pocket and shrugged. Professor McGonagall began to read the names off, but no one was really paying attention to her.

"Anderson, Maki."

"I heard that this year there's going to be some event," whispered Alicia.

"Hopefully it's better than that one we had in our second year."

"Percy wouldn't shut up about knowing something we didn't," sniffed Ron. "Prat."

"_Ravenclaw!"_

"And those gits at Quality Quidditch supplies mentioned some sporting event," said Seamus. "Reckon that might have something to do with it."

"Delacour, Gabrielle."

"Potter sucks! Potter sucks! Potter sucks! Know why? Cause Potter sucks!"

"Happy start of terms, Malf***," murmured Harry in greeting.

After a few moments of furious muffled cursing between the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables, Hermione nailed them both with books. Snape turned to glare at them for a few moments before returning to watching the sorting, no doubt dreaming of how many new students he had to break now.

"_Gryffindor!"_

"All I'm saying is that the Hollyhead Harpies should shave more," Dean said to Ernie.

Dead silence rang in the hall. Dean did his best to imitate Neville, who was cowering some way down the table. McGonagall shook her head and resumed.

"Cute little cream puff in the tower this year," Fred whispered, looking down the table at Gabrielle.

"That's your new sister-in-law!" Hermione whispered furiously.

"Wonder if she likes lollipops."

"Hooligans," muttered Hermione, trying to erase what she had just heard from her brain.

"Gutierrez, Pedro."

"It's all a red herring," whispered Harry, "It's something to get us all excited. I bet it's some kind of lame sports competition or something."

"But what if it's not?" whispered Ron. "What if it's really big? What if it made one of us famous?"

"Bet you'd like that, ginger. Something to distract everyone from your record of being held back like forty years. Maybe then you could get a better house," Malfoy snickered.

"_Hufflepuff!"_

The sorting continued despite the small scuffle that broke out between the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables which was only solved with numerous jinxes being fired into the fray by an irate Snape. The sortie settled down awful fast and students with tentacle faces and rubbery limbs hunched low on their benches. A few had to be propped up in their seats because they couldn't move on their own. Neville was one such unfortunate student. A stray Petrificus Totalus had struck him during the confused combat.

The whispering continued throughout the proceedings at a much lower volume and no more fights occurred.

"Liddell, Alice."

The Hufflepuffs were just finished welcoming their newest student when they were surprised by a surprise. A body fell from the enchanted ceiling to land on the Hufflepuff table with a loud thud.

Thud!

"What is it?"

"Looks like a body."

"Maybe it was one."

The whispers died out as the figure lying on the table rose to its feet- Sorry, I mean foot. Indeed, the person on the table had only one foot. And a peg leg. And a zany eye that whizzed about in all sorts of directions.

"_Ravenclaw!"_

McGonagall turned her head to look better at the man. This helped her none because her glasses had no lenses.

Snape ran a hand through his greasy black hair. He glanced briefly skyward, then made his way to the Hufflepuff table. He took the man by the arm and helped him down from the table.

"Allow me to introduce Alastor Moody. He will be the head of security this year. I know that we have never needed one before, but the troubles we had last year have given us reason to believe that you need additional supervision. And could you use the door from now on, Mad-Eye?"

"Don't believe in 'em," muttered Moody.

"Continue," Snape ordered McGonagall.

Snape and Moody sat as McGonagall continued the sorting and students whispered about yet another thing.

It was about three minutes later that the sorting finished. As McGonagall carted the Sorting Hat off, Snape rose again.

"As is custom, a feast will precede bed-"

Cheers echoed up and down the hall. At Snape's glare, they faded into memory.

"But before that, I will take the time to introduce our teachers. I am Professor Snape, the mighty and omnipotent-"

"Impotent," corrected Fred, in a whisper, to his classmates.

"-Potions teacher. This is Professor McGonagall. She is the Transfiguration teacher. The nutty old man in the middle is our headmaster, Professor Dumbledore."

He continued on down the line until he reached two new faces.

"And here, last but not least, is the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher-"

"Professor Lupin," Lupin said to the semi-conscious students.

"-Professor Lupin," growled Snape. He coughed, then turned to face the students, "Now, since our introductions have now come to an-"

"Eh-heh-hem."

"…And now, since our introductions have come to-"

"Eh-heh-hem!"

"And now since our introduct-" he said quickly.

"EH-HEH-HEM!"

"And our new head of human resources, Ugly Umbridge."

"I have a first name!" Umbridge pouted.

"And I don't care. Where's the firewhisky?"

The silver dishes running up the length of the table were suddenly filled with food. In the general ruckus that followed there was much merriment and stupidity. They ate until they were full, upon which all the food disappeared.

"D***," muttered Ron as the treacle tarts he'd stuffed under his shirt disappeared.

Snape rose once again and walked slowly and dramatically to the center of the podium.

"Before the night grows late and you lot head off to bed, there is one final announcement concerning a major event which will take place this year."

The whispers echoed once more through the hall. Snape waited until they had stilled before continuing.

"You may have noticed that we have a large number of foreign students with us this year. They, of course, already know what is about to take place. For that is why they have come. They are here to participate in the Triwizard Tournament!"

Outright yelling and screaming started up at this. Snape held up calming hands, but as the noise steadily increased, was forced to resort to more magical means of reacquiring control of the room. After Filch had put out the last of the fires, Snape continued his announcement.

"The contestants in this… contest… will face three challenges with great personal risk and virtually nonexistent fail-safes that most of you are by now used to. There are many rules and a lot of ceremony, but I want to go to bed, so I'll give you the short version. Students put their names into this," Snape gestured toward a giant wooden chalice filled with flames which had been roaring in one corner of the room inconspicuously since before they had entered, "The Goblet of Fire! (Like in the book. ;D) On Halloween, three names will come forth, one from three of the four houses, which, let's face it, will be Gryffindor, Slytherin, and Ravenclaw, because Dragongout hasn't ever really been involved in anything important."

Damagi Elegante raised his hand, "What about Hufflepuff, Professor Snape?"

Snape turned his head quizzically, "Hufflepuff? Is that a house?"

"Yes."

"I guess you learn something new every day. Anyhow, there will be three champions. Gryffindors, don't even bother. It's going to be Harry Potter. He's the title character. I could kill him right now and he'd still somehow manage to get into the bloody competition. The one who wins will get a lovely trophy. I wish we had it here to show you, but we are still washing off the graffiti from the last person to win it. Good luck. I'm kidding. I hope you all get drawn."

"Why?" asked a number of students.

"I did mention this competition was deadly, didn't I?"

Many a gulp could be heard in the hall. Snape turned and moved to sit back down.

"Wasn't that a little cruel?" asked Moody.

"What the hell happened to your face?" was the reply.

Next Time on HPMF:

Harry: Well, I wonder who else is going to be in the tournament with me.

Draco: I'm the obvious choice for Slytherin.

Luna: How could I lose?

Draco: Easily.

Squeaks: Hufflepuff pride!

Harry: Are you saying that ironically or seriously? I honestly can't tell.


	25. Chapter 6: For Many Merry Meetings

The Magnificent Farce Drinking Game: Every time you see a reference to something that was in the original Harry Potter series, take a sip. I recommend that you only read two chapters a day if you play this game for the whole piece.

I do not own a whale, a ferret, or a snake.

Chapter 6: The Drawing of the Four

The wizard ran to class and the thestrals followed. Neville slammed the door shut and slumped to the floor. Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows in a questioning manner.

"Malfoy soaked my robes in thestral pheromone."

Professor McGonagall gave him a level look and pointed at his seat, which he then took.

"Now, let us return our attention to the blackboard. If you follow the diagram, you can clearly see that the Animagus spell is extremely dangerous."

"How dangerous?" asked Ron.

"50% of attempts end in death."

Ron paled.

"So I recommend that none of you even think about it."

"Why are we learning about this?" asked Ernie. "It sounds too dangerous to be taught in school."

"That's right. I won't be teaching you about it. I'll be teaching you about basic human Transfiguration safety, because at least one of you lot will try it at some point before you're ready. What I teach you here will help keep you from dying until somebody finds you."

"Why would anyone ever want to try it? It sounds so scary," said Lavender.

"Some witches and wizards find it fun to fly as a bird or swim like a fish. Mind you, being human won't stop predators from eating you. Also, being proficient in human Transfiguration is one of the skills Aurors must be proficient in. They wouldn't be able to sneak up on a dark wizard very well if they couldn't change their appearance, hmm? And what to do with them after they have been caught, kill them?"

"I certainly hope not," said Neville, staring at her with tremendous eyes.

"Of course not. That would make us no better than them. Instead, we turn them into ferrets. They can't use magic and Muggles get to keep them as pets; it's the perfect solution."

Ron laughed.

"What's so funny, Weasley?" barked McGonagall in her Scottish accent. "This is no laughing matter."

"Sorry. I was just imagining Malfoy as a ferret."

Harry and the other students rumbled with laughter along with him.

"I could see that," choked Seamus.

"Come now, let's be nice," said Hermione.

"Nice? Whose side are you on?" asked Ron.

"The side of kindness and compassion."

"I was speaking recently!"

"Rhetorically?" asked Hermione.

"Oh, so that's how it is?"

"What's how what is?"

"Don't get uppity with me!"

"I'm being uppity?"

"I've had it with you! You always make me look stupid! Well I can't take it anymore!"

Professor McGonagall appeared a bit confused but realized that getting involved might not be the best idea at the moment.

"Ron! I don't know what you're so upset about! Tell me!"

"Don't play dumb! Apologize!"

"Apologize for what? You being a freckled git?"

"Low blow, buck teeth."

"My teeth are none of your business, ginger."

"Ginger? Ginger! I'm ought to shove my slippered foot up your arse!"

"Well, what's stopping you beanpole?"

"You're the one who's all skin and bones. There's more breast on a chicken!"

Hermione was crying now.

"If you're so superior, why do you pick on little girls and someone who's not even in the room?"

"That's it! Goodbye! If you want to apologize, you can just eat it! I'm going back to the dorms."

Ron stormed out of the classroom, leaving silence in his wake.

(In case you're wondering, the fight will not last too long before they're friendly again. How I wish I didn't have to tell you this.)

"Well, as I was saying… What was I saying?" asked Professor McGonagall. "I suppose I could just start over-"

At that moment, the bell rang, signaling the end of class.

"Oh, my goodness! Could everyone please read pages 67 through 83 in their textbooks? Have a nice day. No, stay here Miss Granger, I would like to speak with you in private for a moment."

Harry waited for Hermione outside the classroom; the Gryffindors had their morning break next. When she emerged from the classroom Hermione looked far less upset. She appeared to be deep in thought.

"You appear deep in thought."

I wish he wouldn't do that.

"What? Oh, hello, Harry. Yes, I suppose I am."

"Would you mind sharing your thoughts?"

"I suppose so. Professor McGonagall wanted to ask me about a riddle."

"A riddle?"

"They haven't caught Carmen yet."

"I see. So you're still their first call for solving her puzzles?"

"Something like that. Lupin and Agent PG had already solved it, but I came to the same conclusion."

"Lupin figured it out? He must be pretty clever."

"He is! He _is_ one of the greatest detectives in the world."

"I bet that class is going to be fun."

"We'll find out soon, at any rate. The first session of it is this afternoon."

There was a bang. They spun around just in time to see Mad-Eye Moody climb in through the now-permanently-open window.

"I could've killed you just like that! Easy as Ms. Brown! You need to maintain constant vigilance! Otherwise a dark wizard could be using your corpse as a beanbag chair! Constant vigilance!"

Moody stumped off and Harry and Hermione took a moment to look over the martyred window before continuing on their way to the library. Dean greeted them at the entrance.

"Hey guys, what's up?"

"Just hanging, brother."

"Cool. I just saw the best movie ever. Have either of you ever seen Star Wars?"

Harry and Hermione grinned and nodded enthusiastically.

"The best part is where they're in the X-Wings at the end, about to blow up the Death Star," said Harry.

"No, the best part is where Luke fights Darth Vader on Bespin," said Hermione.

"You like Empire more than New Hope?"

"It's got better storytelling, plus the 'Luke, I am your father' scene in it."

"Yeah, but the pacing sucks! It's like going to the bathroom to take a piss and then having to wait in line."

"But there are decorative soaps after the wait!" cried Hermione.

"Well, okay; you've got me there."

"Uh, guys?" said Dean, "I was talking about Phantom Menace."

Harry and Hermione gaped at him, their faces a mixture of disbelief and revulsion.

"Ph-Ph-Phantom Menace?" stuttered Harry.

"Yeah, Professor Querrill," Dean said, crossing his arms.

"That's the worst one!"

"What makes your opinion mean more than mine?" Dean asked indignantly.

"It's not opinion," said Hermione in a shrill voice, "It's proven fact!"

"Prove it."

"Phantom Menace brought us- Da da da da- Jar Jar Binks!" said Harry."

"And let's not forget that waste of time otherwise known as Coruscant! That was ten f***ing minutes of saying that they weren't going to get help! Couldn't they have just had a scene where they opened a hologram and after summing up what's going on- because the audience doesn't know- been told that there wasn't any way they could get help?"

"You just brought up another one. The whole f***ing plot. What the f*** was it about anyway?"

"I don't know. And the writing was really bad."

"It certainly didn't help that the acting was so wooden."

"Are you just about finished?" asked Dean.

"Yeah, I'm done."

"Me too."

"Alright then. So what I wanted to say was-"

"One more!" squeaked Hermione. "There was a kid in the movie!"

"Who saved the day! What the f*** was that about anyway?" muttered Harry.

"Done? Luna wants to talk to you, Hermione. And I ain't never talking to either of you about Star Wars ever again."

Harry and Hermione entered the library and went to the section for books about antique wigs, which is where Luna hid herself whenever she didn't want to be found.

"Hello, Luna!" said Hermione. "Oughtn't you be in class?"

"Hello, Hermione, Harry. No, Professor Lovecraft gave the class the day off because he had to catch the bits of sanity which had gotten loose in his office."

"That sounds chaotic."

"Oh, yes, it was. There was blood everywhere and reality was falling apart."

"Filch is going to have fun cleaning that up," commented Harry.

"What did you want to talk to us about?" asked Hermione.

"Actually, I just wanted to talk to you, Hermione. Harry, would you mind going somewhere else for a while?"  
>"Fine. I'll see you girls later, then."<p>

"Bye, Harry!" they said and waved until he had passed out of sight.

Hermione checked the adjacent rows before turning to Luna.

"Luna, what's happened?"

"It's about the Goblet of Fire."

"Do you think someone's going to cheat to get into it?"

"No, it's not that. I'm- I'm afraid that I might be chosen!"

Hermione set a steadying hand on Luna's shoulder and tried to calm her down.

"Luna. Luna. Don't worry. Do you remember when the hat told you what house you were going to?"

"Yes, of course I do," wept Luna. "It told me I was in Ravenclaw."

"Yes, but didn't you want to go into Ravenclaw? When I put on the Sorting Hat, I asked it to put me in Gryffindor. That's why I'm in my house. I'm sure that if you don't want to be picked, you won't."

Luna sniffled a bit, then said in a tiny voice, "But I didn't want to go into Ravenclaw. The Hat said it was where I was meant to go!"

Hermione continued to pat Luna's shoulder in a stall for time.

"The Goblet of Fire chooses the three best students from the three best houses to be champions, right?"

"Right," Luna sniffled.

"There are plenty of great Ravenclaws besides you. You don't have to worry; one of them will be chosen."

"But I can't know that! Besides, I'm not important to the plot! Harry may be safe, but if I get chosen, I'll die because I'm his friend! It would make the most sense from a dramatic standpoint! The only other people it could be are you, Seamus, Dean, Ron, or Draco! So either me or Harry's rival is going to die and there will still be three books left!"

Hermione didn't know what to say to console Luna, but stayed by her side, even after the bell rang for the next class to begin.

Meanwhile…

Harry didn't have any work to do during morning break, so he decided to go visit Hagrid. Hagrid was stinking drunk when Harry knocked on his door, but let him in all the same.

"How're your classes treating you, Harry? Nothing too difficult, I hope."

"Not yet. Actually, the teachers have been too busy to assign us much of anything, what with all the preparations for the upcoming tournament. Do you have your next lesson planned out?"

"My next lesson? No, sir! The whole next semester! It's a bit of a class project, see? I'll show you in a bit, but first things first. Tea?"

"Yes, please."

"Yeah, that tournament is eating up a lot of my time," said Hagrid as he poured the tea. "In fact, we've had to bring in a whole lot of outside help to make it work. Last time we had a lot more teachers immediately before the tournament."

"And afterward?"

"The reason we have a lot less. As a matter of fact, I saw Charlie Weasley just the other day. You know his family, don't you?"

"Yeah, I'm friends with the twins."

"Trouble, those two are. Always setting my outhouse on fire. Charlie wasn't nearly so mischievous, but he did get into a bit of trouble every now and then. Did you ever hear about his apparition test?"

"Never."

"Then I'll tell you. It's a good story."

_**The Story of Charlie Weasley's Apparition Test**_

It was on a sunny spring day that the apparition test finally arrived. Charlie was a little nervous, but no more than could be expected. After all, it isn't everyday that a young man learns to teleport himself through time and space.

Charlie had a lot to live up to. Bill had already passed the test and Charlie had five younger siblings to be a good example for. Mrs. Weasley had taken him aside early today to tell him that his birthday presents hung in the balance. If that phrase meant doom to most children, then for a Weasley it means far worse.

The apparition test would be presided over by a somewhat silly old wizard named Dedalus Diggle. The man was more than a bit mad, but his experience with apparition was, apparently, unrivaled.

"Good morning! I hope you're ready. I've failed more students than there are in your school! This is not a subject for the faint-hearted. Indeed, many a witch or wizard lives without ever apparating properly."

"Uh, sure."

Charlie had been nervous. Now he was terrified.

"Just let me warn you, apparition is serious business. If you foul it up, you can lose limbs."

Charlie had been terrified before. Now he was s***ting bricks.

"One time, I had a student who apparated inside a man's behind. We never were able to separate them…"

Charlie had been s***ting bricks before. Now he was catatonic.

"Are you ready, then?"

To be frank, Charlie felt like going for a jaunty walk to erase what had just gone through his mind.

"Okay."

In a cold sweat, Charlie stood in the ready position and grip his wand tightly.

"On the count of three."

Charlie felt a knot clench in his stomach.

"One. Two."

His vision was beginning to cloud. He wouldn't succeed like this.

"Envision it in your mind."

Unfortunately, he couldn't help but let his mind wander. Dedalus apparently had some difficulty counting to three, as it was taking him some time. Maybe they should teach arithmetic at Hogwarts.

"Three."

Charlie's body travelled into the split, propelling its way between the bands of reality, constricting about him and slipping away. With a sudden pop, he apparated.

In the girl's bathroom. All-in-all, not a bad way to fail a test.

Later, Dedalus visited Charlie in the hospital wing where he was recuperating from the numerous jinxes which had left him in a state akin to that of spoiled tuna casserole.

"I'm sorry that you failed the test, but I'm afraid that 3500 kilometers off-target is outside the reasonable margin of error. Still, good luck next year."


	26. Chapter 7: Lucky Number Four

I do not own Main Street, 2nd Street, or 42nd Street. I _do_ own 27th SW Street.

Chapter 7: Pilot

**Camera opens on a view of the common room. A fire is crackling merrily in the grate and wind gently rattles the windows. Entrance: Harry Potter, Seamus Finnigan.**

"I'm just saying, if we only had to practice three or four evenings, I might be able to get some of my homework—" said Harry.

_Executive Producer- Angel Dragoon_

"Ouch!"

"What's wrong?" asked Seamus.

"This thing is on my foot!"

"What's an executive producer?"

"Whatever it is, I want to kill it!"

_Written by Arcturus Maple_

"Who's Arcturus Maple?"

"Probably some assh***."

I take offense at that.

"A pompous, pretentious one at that."

_Based on the popular book series by J.K. Rowling_

"I met her once," commented Seamus.

"What was she like?"

"She was a really nice lady. You know how a lot of stars are jerks?"

"Yeah."

"She bought me coffee and signed my autograph book."

"That is pretty nice."

_Made available by Fanfictionnet_

"I've had just about enough of this."

"Reading backwards is giving me a bit of a headache," confessed Seamus.

"Yeah, and my leg's fallen asleep."

"That is rather problematic."

"Yes."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"Well?"

**Entrance: Ronald Weasley**

***Laughter***

"What the f***?"

"I was swimming and a giant sea lamprey got latched onto my head. Hermione said she'd help me get it off later."

"Not that," said Harry, holding up a hand to stall him, "Where is that noise coming from?"

"Whoever smelt it dealt it."

***Laughter***

"Ssh! There it is again! It sounds like… laughing!"

"Okay, but where's it coming from?" asked Seamus, lifting a seat cushion and peeking beneath it.

"Echoing from the darkness like something that echoes from the darkness," said Luna.

**Entrance: Luna Lovegood**

***Applause***

"There it is again! Only now it sounds like cheering and clapping!" shouted Seamus as he cowered behind the sofa.

"What should we do?" asked Ron.

"Nothing until Hermione shows up. She'll probably know what's going on," said Harry.

"So you've entirely discounted asking me? I'm a Ravenclaw, after all."

"You have an idea of what's going on?" asked Seamus.

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Well, you just said we should ask you. So what do you know?"

"I never said I knew what was happening, but I suspect that we are trapped in a reality show."

**The boys all look around at each other before turning to face Luna.**

"Nonsense!" they shouted as a chorus.

**Entrance: Hermione Granger**

"Hello!"

**Everyone looks around and stays completely silent.**

"What are you all doing?" Hermione finally asked.

"We're listening."

"To me?" Hermione squeed.

"In your dreams, alpha nerd," said Ron.

"We're listening for cheering, clapping, and laughing," explained Seamus.

"Have you heard any yet?"

"Not since you got here," Ron said bluntly.

"They seem to echo from the darkness like something that echoes from the darkness."

"Haven't you thought of a better analogy yet, Luna?" asked Seamus.

"I like it; it's got character."

"Thank you, Harry."

**Aww…**

"Whoa! Did you guys here that?" whispered Ron.

"Sure did."

"I don't know about the rest of you, but it's creeping me out," said Seamus. "I think I might just- you know-"

**Exit: Seamus Finnigan**

"Well, Seamus has chickened out on us, anyone else want to take the wimp train out of here?" asked Ron.

No one answered.

"Then I'll just take her out of the station," said Ron and jogged after Seamus.

**Exit: Ronald Weasley**

"Does anyone else think Ron runs like a ninny?" asked Harry when he had gone.

There were murmurs of assent and smiles which quickly went blank.

Luna finally broke the silence, "Shouldn't there have been a scene transition by now or some-"

**Hogwarts coat of arms sweep.**

**Harry, Luna, Dean and Ernie are seated in the Great Hall, eating lunch while listening to Ernie's magical radio.**

"Hey, Ernie, could you clear something up for me?" asked Harry.

"Maybe. What is it?"

"Did muggles invent all their technology first and wizards copied them to make magic versions or did wizards make them first or did they just make lots of similar things independently or is it something else entirely?"

"I really don't know."

"I do! I do!" cheered Luna.

"You do?" asked both Harry and Ernie, genuine surprise on their faces.

"Of course I do! The muggle and wizarding worlds may use a different medium for their technology, but you can do anything with one that can be done with the other. Naturally, some things are easier to do in one than the other. Wizards use a simple spell to make a photograph move. Muggles would need to use a _lot_ of resources to make them properly. On the other hand, Wizards have a difficult time making handheld communication devices. The last company to try, Shatly and Snivel Incorporated, made mirrors which worked kind of like two-way radios. They were really expensive though and never made it into industrialized product and of the 713 sets made, only 67 are known to have survived the third Great War."

"That's great, thanks, but I didn't mean read us a book," said Harry.

"I'm sorry, sometimes it just all slips out."

"I'm sorry I criticized you like that for being yourself."

"I'm sorry for making you do all this apologizing."

"If you two are about done strengthening that silly stereotype people have about the English being polite, could we talk about something interesting?" said Ernie stiffly.

"What did you have in mind?" asked Harry.

"Oh, I don't know… how about the drawing from the Goblet tonight?"

"That sounds boring."

"Let's talk about the Quidditch finals," suggested Dean.

"Sounds good."

"If that's where this is going, I'll just leave," said Ernie, "I can't stand how it ended. Just thinking about it…"

Ernie shuddered.

"Okay the, we can talk about the drawing. Actually, there's something I'd like to discuss about it with Harry," said Luna and Ernie sat down.

"What?" asked Harry.

Harry peeled an orange with his wand and levitated the peelings onto Neville's head.

"I'm concerned."

"For me?" asked Harry.

"Of course not; you aren't going to die."

"Oh, yeah. But that doesn't mean I can't lose an arm or something."

With a flick of the wand, a pair of kiwis had flown up Neville's nose.

"True. But the other candidates- who can say that they'll all survive with certainty?"

"I think you mean, 'who can say with certainty that they'll all survive?'."

"What if I get chosen?"

Harry opened his mouth then shut it. He sat and thought about it as Neville very noisily extracted a kiwi from his nose by sneezing really hard.

"Then we'll all help you," said Ernie, nodding.

"Yes. We'll all help you," agreed Harry.

"I- I don't know what to say," uttered Luna.

At that exact moment, Ron plunked a bottle of firewhisky down on the table and belched loudly enough for the kiwi up Neville's nose to explode.

"_Excuse_ you," said Harry pointedly.

"Did I bump you?"

"No."

"Oh. Good."

"Ron, is that your-"

"Bathrobe?"

"Turtle."

"Where?"

"In your sandwich," supplemented Luna.

"I'll be d***ed," muttered Ron as he pried the sandwich open.

"I almost ate you, Pig- Pidge- Piggy…?"

"Mayo," said Harry, exasperated.

"Like the drink," nodded Ron.

"Condiment," corrected Harry.

"And you kiss your mother with that mouth? Oh, wait- she's dead."

**Harry cries.**

**Aww…**

"Shut up, voices! I don't need your sympathy!"

***Laughter***

"Don't worry Harry. I think that weird disembodied laughter is trying to cheer you up," whispered Luna.

"No, it's not! It's just a bully!"

"Oh, for the love of Pleinair! Grow up, Harry! Are you a wizard or aren't you?"

"That was mean."

"I'm sorry, it was."

"Not again! What are you two doing?" moaned Ernie.

"Being polite. Since when do you care?" asked Harry.

**Entrance: Crabbe Jr.**

"What do you want?" asked Harry and drew his wand.

Crabbe silently extended an envelope. Harry took the envelope from him and flipped a letter out onto the table. Ernie read it aloud, "You are hereby formally invited to a trap."

Harry rolled his eyes.

Ernie continued, "Mr. Malfoy will be hosting a trap for Mr. Potter in music room number three at 6:00 PM this evening. Signed, Draco Malfoy, ie es queue. What the hell does that mean?"

"I think it's short for 'esquire,'" said Dean.

"Well, what do you think?" asked Luna.

Harry thought about it for a few seconds, then said, "It would be rude not to attend, but the drawing is this evening. We're supposed to be there. I know that I'm going to be drawn anyway, so I have no choice."

Crabbe raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry, but could you tell Malfoy that I won't be able to come? I'll try to make it to the next one, though."

Crabbe nodded and stumped off.

**Exit: Crabbe Jr.**

"Do you think I did the right thing there?"

"You didn't really have a choice, mate. You have to be at your own drawing."

"I suppose so. I shall have to make it up to him somehow… I know! I'll host a trap for him!"

"Excellent idea, Harry!" cried Ernie. "Best wait a bit though; no point in seeming arrogant."

**Vertical sweep**

**Enchanting BGM plays**

It was a splendid day and everyone had lots of fun, except for Neville. But at last the time for the drawing of three had come. The students were all gathered in the Great Hall. Even Malfoy had forsaken his own trap to come.

"So, who do you think it'll be for Slytherin?" asked Seamus.

"It's got to be Blaise," speculated Dean.

"What about Malfoy, though? He's a major player, the rival even."

"I hate that Trogdorian nitwit."

"It could be one of the exchange students," said Pavarti. "I heard that one of them is some kind of Quidditch legend."

"I'd heard that, too," said Angelina. "Wasn't his name Steve Jefferson?"

"Yeah, the American idiot."

"Will you guys be quiet? I'm trying to find Wally," groaned Neville as he squinted at his book.

Professor Snape moved to the podium before the head table and stood behind the lectern.

"Quiet down, you bunch of cackling wankers."

The teachers all turned to stare at Snape.

Hagrid broke the silence, "I thought that was a cuss."

"Apparently it's fair game."

Cheering flooded the hall and didn't subside until Snape had given the assembled students a stern berating. After Madam Zabini had levitated the last body up to the hospital wing, Snape continued with his speech.

"Sit down and shut up. We're here for fun. This is the night you've all been waiting for. That's right, tonight Harry Potter and two other students will be drawn from the Goblet of Fire. That would be a wonderful name for a book. Give me a minute to write that down."

As Snape scribbled down "The Goblet of Fire" on a piece of parchment, Harry leaned over toward Luna, who was seated behind him.

"If you do get drawn, don't worry. You're really smart, you're practically immortal, and you've got a bunch of really great friends. There's no way anything bad could happen to you."

Luna drew him into a tight embrace as Snape read aloud the first name to be drawn from the Goblet.

"Harry Potter," the whole school turned to look at him. Snape continued, "What's this? Public shows of affection? Not on my watch," and split them up, dropping Harry on a stool at the front.

"Next bit of parchment."

Nothing happened.

"Any time now."

Nothing continued to happen.

"Do you fear death?" he threatened the drinking vessel of fire.

***Laughter***

"What the hell was that noise and where is it coming from?"

"We're not sure!" shouted Seamus. "We suspect that we're at present the subject of a sitcom!"

"Sit-what?"

"A sitcom! Situational comedy! Like on TV!"

"What the hell is TV?"

"A muggle device much like our zoomboxes."

"I remember those!" cried Professor McGonagall. "We had one when I was a wee lass."

"What happened to it?" asked Hagrid.

"Dilithium crystals in it cracked."

"What a shame," muttered Snape.

A slip of parchment shot out of the Goblet and floated down to Snape.

"Draco Malfoy!"

Marcus Flint clobbered Malfoy. Apparently, he had thought himself the most likely to be drawn. Snape directed the staggering Malfoy to the stool beside Harry's.

Malfoy gleered, which is a combination of 'glared' and 'sneered,' and said, "This time you'll see the true power of Slytherin."

***Oooooh***

"I've had enough of this," muttered Snape and fired several blasts of fire at the camera, director, and audience, creating a visual effect which is pointless aside from providing an excuse to put the show in 3D.

Another bit of parchment took to the air majestically like a plastic bag caught in an updraft.

Snape caught it deftly, "Cho Chang."

Cheers arose from Ravenclaw as everyone tried to hug her. Luna fainted from relief and Violet nearly didn't catch her, resulting only in a little bonk of the head on the cobblestones.

"Well, now we have our three sacrifices- I mean champions. No wait, I really do mean sacrifices. Cheer for them."

The hall rang with cheers. These died away immediately as the Goblet sent up a fourth piece of paper.

"It's not possible," murmured Snape as the paper slip landed in his outstretched hand. He unfolded it and read aloud, "Cedric Diggory."

The hall broke into shouting, chaos, and muggings.

"Enough!" shouted Dumbledore.

Everyone, including Snape, turned to stare.

"Such a thing has never happened before. But we should be tolerant, because did not the Goblet make a change when it selected only three champions for the first time? I suggest we let him compete. If we don't, he'll die anyway, so what could be the harm?"

"Headmaster, we can't have two people competing in the same house. It's not fair. Unless he is from Slytherin."

"Pardon, Professor Snape, but I'm in a different house."

"A different house? You certainly don't have the same look in your eye as a Dragongout."

"That's because I'm in Hufflepuff."

"Rubbish."

"It's been called that before."

"We can't have people making up houses to compete for."

"I didn't make it up. There's six hundred of us in here."

"Six hundred?"

"We're at that table, over there."

"Boil me like a munchkin, I've never noticed that there before."

"Well it's been there for a while. I wish someone would tell the House Elves. We've had to make due with floor scraps since before I came here."

"What year are you in?"

"My eighteenth."

"I mean at this school."

"My eighteenth. I've not been allowed to graduate since none of the teachers remembered that Hufflepuff is a house."

"Sad. Now could you sit down and shut up, whatever-your-name-is? I want to eat tonight."

He turned to face the hall, "I present to you, your four Triwizard Champions!"

Cheers filled the hall, mingled with the half-cheering half-moaning of the studio audience.

Next time on HPMF:

Harry: This is absurd.

Draco: Absurd? The challenge or the scale of it?

Harry: Was that a pun?

Draco: Sure was. How did you like it?

Harry: It wasn't funny. Stop trying.


	27. Chapter 8: Answer Me, Ye Dragons Four!

I do not own any dignity, valor, or honesty.

Chapter the Eighth: In Which Harry Slayeth a Dragon, Besiegeth the Professor Snape's Office, Eateth a Whole Molasses Cake, SPEAKETH IN ALL CAPS, Saileth the High Seas, Maketh It to First Base With Malfoy, and the Author Talketh Out of His Arse.

"I don't understand why we need to be interviewed."

Harry was annoyed. Public appearances always annoyed him. The pictures were always taken on his less-handsome side, the reporter always got the facts wrong, and somehow other people were always mentioned in what should be his article.

Draco, on the other hand, was cool and self-assured, ignorant of the torment which lay ahead.

"Prepare yourself, Potter, for my greatness!"

"Where is it?" asked Harry.

"What?"

"Where is it?"

"Where is what?"

"Your greatness."

"Right where it always is."

"And where is that?"

"With me!"

"It wasn't apparent."

"Insult!" shouted Malfoy.

Harry gave him a look of sheer confusion.

"Mine or are you delivering one?"

"…Both!"

"You're using 'insult' as an insult?"

"Yes. What's wrong with that?"

"Well it's not very good, is it?"

"I could've called you a Weasley."

"What's that supposed to mean?" growled Ron through a mouth full of crisps.

Malfoy elaborated, "It's a sorry existence you lead, living in that ugly house packed to the brim with nuisances and eating food not fit for rats."

"You get used to it," defended Ron.

"Used to filth? I should hope not."

Ron turned even more scarlet.

"Nobody likes you, Malfoy! You're too much of a bully for anyone to really care about."

"Is that the best you've got, Freckles?"

"Ooh. Freckles. I've never heard that one before. How about trying blood-traitor? Muggle-lover? Lanky hot-headed git? Ronald McWeasley?"

"Who's insulting who now?"

"I- You- Shut up!"

"Good comeback."

"Glad you noticed."

"That was sarcasm."

"Blasphemy."

"Never mind."

"I already don't."

Malfoy stormed away as Ron laughed triumphantly.

"Malfoy might win more often if he didn't let himself get so frustrated with Ron," commented Susan.

"Malfoy is nothing but a slimy snake," cheered Ron.

"He's not that bad," murmured Harry.

"Not bad? He's a Slytherin! A Slytherin, Harry! They're all bad!"

"Blaise is your friend and he's in Slytherin."

"That's different. He's too attractive to really be a Slytherin. There must have been some kind of mistake."

Harry, Susan, Dean, Violet, and Padma gave him a sharp look.

"That is hypocritical," Susan pointed out.

"I've got my rival picked. I'm probably closer to Malfoy than any of you," said Ron.

Harry and the others stopped to consider this as Ron left to get more crisps from the kitchen.

"Is it stupidity or genius?" Harry asked in a hushed whisper.

"This is Ron we're talking about."

"So… stupidity?" said Dean.

"100 points," Susan said flippantly.

"Thanks a bunch, Trebek."

"He really might be on to something," argued Padma.

"Cannabis?"

"Yeah, but I mean an idea."

"You mean like his grasshopper circus?"

"No, a good idea."

"It has merit. Now I'm not saying it's brilliant, but I'd pay to see one," said Susan.

"Forget Ron, today's the interviews," said Harry.

"Here we find the native Gryffindor engaged in a social confrontation with members of his pack and those of others," said a voice.

"What now?" groaned Harry as he turned to confront a woman in an emerald green robe trimmed with scrollwork inscribed gold bands, a goblin stenographer, and a dwarf with a magical camera.

Just to be clear, he really is a real dwarf, not the 'Hi-ho hi-ho' variety nor a midget. It doesn't really have an effect on the story, but it bugs me when people equate the groups.

"It appears he's noticed us and is putting on an aggressive display in an attempt to exert dominance and establish his territory. Note the dark-rimmed eyes. From the looks of things, he has been under a lot of stress lately. It may even be possible that he is competing with another for dominance."

"Wizarding interview?"

"Yup," Susan nodded.

"Great."

"See how the male Gryffindor interacts with the Ravenclaw. Notice that he is comfortable around her. A rare sight. I can only assume that their packs have some form of truce."

"Can I kick her a**?"

"If you don't mind spending time in prison," said Padma.

"Know what they do to Hogwarts students in Azkaban?" asked Dean.

"I'm beginning to detect some hostility from our subjects," interrupted the woman. "We should back up a bit and continue filming at a distance."

When she had left, Harry turned to Dean, "So who was that, exactly?"

"Rita Skeeter," he said in a derisive tone.

"What a wicked woman," Susan said and shook her head in disapproval.

"So I don't suppose it's an actual interview," Harry said sadly.

"Afraid not," said Dean.

"At least we have our first DADA class today," consoled Susan.

"We'd better hurry," said Padma, checking her magical watch. "Or else all the good seats will be taken."

"Good seats?" asked Violet.

"Reckon as there's going to be a grand entrance. It's the first class, after all."

The little group of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws scurried to the classroom and got some decent seats near the front. And for Violet, in the back. The class gradually filled with students and everyone waited anxiously for Professor Moody to enter. They had begun to think he might not be coming at all when he fell through the ceiling in an explosion of plaster onto Neville's desk.

"Constant vigilance!" he roared as Neville got up from where he had fallen.

"But does it have to be on my desk?" whined Neville.

"Yes. Yes it does."

"Why is it always me?"

"You have to be more vigilant! And you _did_ look a bit softer."

Neville moaned about how that was what his fortune cookie said but otherwise stayed silent.

Hermione raised her hand, "Sir, do you know where Professor Lupin is? We're waiting for him."

"Professor Lupin had some business to attend to. I'm afraid he won't be back for a few days. Until then, I'll be teaching you."

"The nerve!" whispered Pavarti angrily, "He can't even show up to our first lesson!"

Moody waited for silence before beginning the lesson.

"Your first lesson will be about the three most forbidden curses."

"More forbidden than the Infidelius Charm?"

"Especially more forbidden. Can any of you tell me what one of them is?"

"I know one," said Terry Boot. "The Imperius curse."

"And what does that do?"

"It forces the person it's used on to do as commanded."

All the boys turned their heads to the side and raised their hands to rub them over their mouths in consideration.

"Let me remind you, these are forbidden curses."

"Of course," mumbled the boys.

"And can anyone tell me what the second forbidden curse is?"

Hermione's hand shot up but Moody pushed past her and glared down at Violet, who shuddered so much that her notes and ferret magazines tumbled to the floor.

"Well?" growled Moody.

"The- uh- the- uh- the Transmorgrification curse."

"And why is it forbidden?"

"Because it forces its subject to be transformed into whatever the caster is thinking of indefinitely," she whispered, trembling.

"Can you show us?" growled Moody, making it almost a purr.

"It's forbidden!" squeaked Violet.

"Only on humans. That caged snake on my desk on the other hand would look better as a cute little creature of the forest, wouldn't it?"

Violet squeaked again, then slowly raised her wand with a trembling hand and pointed it at the cage.

She closed her eyes and cried out, "_Transkorpus Sekka_!"

The blue light which shot forth from her wand tip spun just wide of the cage, instead hitting the foe glass behind it. The indistinct figure in the glass twisted and writhed, shrinking into its clothes before disappearing altogether. The class was collectively silent.

Finally, Dean broke the silence, "What about the third curse?"

Violet collapsed in a dead faint. Luna rushed over to check her.

"Mister Thomas, you know perfectly well that the final curse is the killing curse, whose name I shall not utter in this company. Needless to say, it is the worst of the three. If any of you lot ever use it, it'll be me who brings you in, dead or alive."

The class ended on a somber note. As they rushed to their next class nearly everyone was chattering excitedly about the lesson. Neville and Luna helped Violet up to the infirmary.

By lunch, the entire school knew that Violet had turned Draco Malfoy into a ferret. There was going to be a hearing in three days.

"Anyone want to bet on Draco Malfoy for the first task?" asked Ron.

"Yeah… no," said Pavarti.

"What kind of chance could he possibly have, unless the challenge is to dig a hole?" joked Seamus.

Lavender frowned at him, "Stop making fun of Draco. He must be going through quite an ordeal."

"Big word," muttered Ron.

"Hermione taught it to me."

"Draco's never been a ferret before. I bet he's on pins and needles. We should do something for him," said Ron. "I suggest we put him in a paper bag."

"Let's be humane," said Lavender.

"Let's be inhumane," echoed Seamus.

"What does any of this have to do with helping me complete the first task?" asked Harry.

"Nothing. Does it have to be?"

"Yes."

"Too bad," shrugged Pavarti.

"We can hinder the competition, at the very least," reasoned (not really) Ron. "If all you have to do is not screw up as badly as the other champions, then winning will be much easier."

"That sounds an awful lot like cheating to me."

"Think of it as playing to win."

"That sure sounds fair," muttered Harry.

"Fair? This is the Triwizard Tournament we're talking about! It's a cheating competition!"

"Ron, you're scaring me."

"Why is everyone surprised when I know something?" Ron asked the air.

"It's just one of those quirks of life," said Pavarti.

"You didn't have to live with him for all your life," muttered Ginny.

"Stop talking mean about Ron. He didn't do anything to deserve it!" cried Lavender.

_And the estrogen brigade strikes again,_ thought Harry, covering his ears under guise of brushing back his hair to drown out some of the screaming.

Some minutes later they reached the common room and after Lavender gave the password, they entered. All was in a state of disarray. Hermione was suffocating under a toppled pile of books, Dean had apparently been testing the strength of his grenades, and Neville was sitting peacefully asleep in front of the fire.

Ron edged around the hole in the floor and kicked Neville's chair over, then picked it up and sat in it.

"Elegant," commented Harry as he too edged around the hole.

"Who wants to fix it this time?" asked Lavender as she pressed herself to the wall.

"It's Neville's turn isn't it?"

"It's always my turn," grumbled Neville.

"And it always will be," comforted (not really) Lavender.

Seamus came bounding down the stairs with a piece of parchment in his hand.

"Harry!" he shouted.

"What is it?"

"There's a letter here for you from Hagrid! He says he has to show you something."

"I suppose you read it, then?"

"No."

"How do you know what it's about?"

"Eh?"

"How do you know what the letter's about?"

"Lucky guess."

"…"

"Okay, I read it. How could I resist? You guys were gone for like ten minutes."

"Glad to know you can resist a temptation," Harry said sarcastically.

"It's not in my nature," admitted Seamus.

Harry took the letter and read it through twice. It didn't seem like one of Hagrid's drunken notes inviting Harry down to blow up whatever new magical creature he had gotten his massive hands on. So Harry decided that walking down to see Hagrid would probably not turn out horribly.

That evening, Harry strolled down the sunset-streaked lawns, down past the lava pits, the overgrown hedges, the giant murderous tree, and through the boar gate. Hagrid's hut squatted like a pooping toad. And speaking of toads, there was Umbridge, checking off boxes on a notepad. She stood there, occasionally looking up at the hut with an expression of utter disgust.

Harry couldn't really blame her. He waited two minutes before she moved off. By then he was bored and couldn't wait to find out what Hagrid had for him so he could go back to the common room. He walked up to Hagrid's door and banged loudly on it. Hagrid opened the door and smiled widely when he saw him.

"'Arry!" bellowed the giant man. "I expected yeh earlier! What kept yeh?"

"Homework and that awful toad woman, Umbridge."

"There's sommat wrong with that one," Hagrid said, troubled.

"Yes, there is sommat- I mean something- about her that I don't trust."

"It's not good luck ter speak ill o' others too much," Hagrid said, waving his hand in front of his beard. "I asked yeh to come down 'ere fer another reason. The Triwizard Tournament has a long history o' cheatin'."

"And we're going to carry on the grand tradition?"

"Exactly. Jus' let me get ready ter go."

Hagrid looked himself over in front of his cracked mirror, downed two bottles of good bourbon, and splashed a tankard of something which smelled of alcohol and piss over his head.

"Ready," spluttered Hagrid, pulling his soaked hair out of his eyes.

"Ready," agreed Harry.

The walk down to the lake was fairly uneventful, unless you count the smoldering crack bush, the violin school field trip, and the Weasley twins' fireworks stand, all of which were the victims of one of Dean's grenades at some point earlier in the day, and now proved difficult obstacles to circumnavigate. There were even a few giant catherine wheels spinning across the grounds.

"What exactly do you want me to see?" Harry asked as they neared the lake.

"It's a surprise."

The lake wasn't their final destination. This has nothing to do with a terribly mediocre film franchise, by the way. Hagrid led him along the lakeshore to the forbidden forest. In the fading light, they slipped into the trees. It became immediately apparent to Harry that he was underdressed for a twilight stroll in the forest. Mosquitoes the size of European swallows descended on them, and it was only through a herculean effort on the part of Hagrid that Harry was not carried off.

In a clearing ahead, Harry could see enormous balls of flame shooting up into the air and flashes of light, as though a bunch of stormtroopers were missing at some rebels. When they were a little closer, Harry could see what was happening and immediately wished he weren't so close.

They were dragons. Obviously dragons. The gigantic fireballs should have been a dead giveaway. Three or four wizards ran around pathetically trying to keep them under control with flashes of light from their wands, which seemed to be proving ineffectual. Hagrid bustled over to lend a hand, or, in this case, a foot. With one might crunch of his boot heel on its toe, the first dragon coil in pain, whimpered, and submitted to the wizards' ropes. Hagrid did this three more times until all four dragons were under control.

"It's just like raisin' children," explained Hagrid, "If yer show 'em who's boss, they'll play nice."

"You must be Harry," said one of the wizards who had been subduing the dragons. "I'm Ron's older brother Charlie. He's told me a lot about you."

"I'm actually a really nice guy, once you get to know me."

Charlie laughed, "I heard that you took my place on the Quidditch team as Seeker. And I heard you're a winner."

"I am at that."

"Good luck taking on your dragon. There'll just be one for each of you, but trust me, one's more than enough for any wizard."

Hagrid "Hhmph"ed.

"Except Hagrid," admitted Charlie.

"What kind's this one?" asked Hagrid.

"That? That's a Hungarian Horntail. Right nasty. The blighter's got a fire breathing maw of daggers on the one end and a giant slashing tail of spikes on the other."

"How much you want to bet that's my dragon?" muttered Harry.

_The morning of the first challenge was an early one. The sun was eager to see Harry's torment._

So early, in fact, that Professor Lovecraft had to banish the sun twenty minutes after it went down so everyone could get a full night's sleep. It was in the early hours of moonrise that Harry went out for a walk.

Harry wasn't the only one still awake and restless. Twice he passed Draco while wandering the halls. Both times he laughed when he was out of sight, but the second time he also felt a bit guilty. Malfoy was going to have a worse time of it than him. A ferret wouldn't stand half a chance against a dragon.

Harry spun around and walked swiftly after Draco. He caught up with him on the third floor, near where Harry had accidentally helped blow up half the corridor in his first year.

"Draco."

The ferret stopped, turned back to look at him, "What do you want?"

"The first task is dragons."

"What?"

"You heard me. The first task is dragons. There are four- one for each of us."

For a minute the ferret was silent, then, "Why are you telling me this? Are you trying to keep me awake?"

"You don't need my help for that. I just thought you'd want the help."

"I don't need your help. A Malfoy doesn't take charity."

Before Harry could say anything else, Draco had scurried off around the corner. He sighed and went back to walking.

Fourth floor. Fifth floor. Secret passage. Fourth floor. Seventh floor. It was as he was passing the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy attempting to teach trolls ballet that Harry heard a call. He turned to see Luna standing in the hall behind him.

"Hello, Harry."

"Hello, Luna."

There was an awkward moment.

"…"

It's still going.

"…"

It was a particularly awkward moment, after all.

"…"

Oh for crying out loud, this is just ridiculous.

"What are you doing, walking around so late at night?"

"I could ask the same of you?"

Harry hesitated only a moment, "I'm a bit nervous about the first task tomorrow."

"Oh, Harry, I'm sure that if anyone can survive it, you can."

"Well, thanks, but it's dragons. That's the challenge. I have to fight a dragon tomorrow and not die in the attempt."

"What difference does it make? You're the strongest wizard in our year. Hermione knows a lot, Ron's half a dozen years older than you, but no one has anywhere near as much power as you do."

"Gee, thanks."

"And you've got me, too!" trilled Luna, getting excited.

"So? You can't help me tomorrow. I have to go it alone."

"That's true. But we still have tonight to get ready. I'll help you prepare and then tomorrow your chances will be that much better!"

Harry considered this. Harry had warned Malfoy on the off-chance that he could make a plan to save himself. Why couldn't he, Harry, do the same?

"I would be honored to have your help," said Harry with a broad smile.

"Excellent! Follow me, I know the perfect place to get ready!"

She pointed back up the corridor to a small, unassuming wooden door across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and his troupe of buffoon troll ballarinas.

"Has that door always been there?"

"Not exactly. Actually, it's something of a secret."

"What's inside?"

"Anything we could possibly need."

_And so, for the second time that night, the sun rose._

Harry stuffed the last of his equipment into his pockets, then started on his shoelaces. Luna pulled her pants back on and looked around for her shirt.

"Do you really think I'll stand a chance?" asked Harry.

"I don't doubt you'll succeed," Luna said as she fetched the rogue shirt from the warlock statue.

Harry redid his laces a second time, then rose. He stood and looked at Luna for a second, then pulled her into a tight hug. A moment later he had shut the door behind him and set off for Gryffindor Tower. There was one last thing he needed to fetch from his trunk.

Next Time on HPMF:

Malfoy: Have at thee!

Hagrid: I'll believe this when boar statues fly!

Hermione: I wouldn't believe it if I wasn't seeing it!

Ron: What, are you promoting the event or something?

Dean: Our Potter can't hope to match dragon-power of that magnitude!


End file.
